Incendiary
by unilocular
Summary: When an agent's cover is blown during a sting operation, the fallout turns explosive for the team. Full case. Gen. Team fic, slight focus on Tim and Tony. Rated T. Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer : If you recognize it, I still don't own it. All characters remain intellectual property of CBS and their creators. All locations and addresses are figments of my imagination.  
**

**Title :** Incendiary

**Summary : **When an agent's cover is compromised during a sting operation, the fallout turns explosive for the team. Full case. Gen. Team fic, slight focus on Tim and Tony.

**Author's Note : **_Guess it's about time to get the new casefic rolling. This is a full case with the entire team, focusing slightly on Tim and Tony like the last ones. I've tried to keep Tony competent like he used to be on the show, hope I've succeeded. __  
_

___There is no slash_.

_I'm expecting the story to be about 20 chapters. Right now, I'm at 15 chapters and just need the kick in the butt to get the last few finished. _

_Shooting for two weekly updates, not sure about days yet since work is taking up a lot of my time lately. Once it calms down a bit, I'll go to the definite update schedule like before. _

_Constructive criticism is always welcome, as are reviews/thoughts/encouragement. If there are any inaccuracies/typos, please PM me so I can correct those ASAP. While I have done some research, there are liberties I've had to take where I couldn't find the information necessary.  
_

_Hope you enjoy! _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**Friday, September 29, 2006 – 2:48pm - 2500 Block of Waterside Dr NW – Washington DC –**

"No, Mom, I'm not speeding," Marissa D'Onofrio lied, pushing her ancient Honda well above the speed limit.

As her mother launched into her usual lecture about the dangers of haste, Marissa made a face at the clock on the dashboard. She'd been late for three shifts at the restaurant in the past two weeks alone. Knowing another incident would likely result in her termination, she pressed the gas pedal closer to the floor.

"Well, Mom, you know I only ever do the speed limit."

Ignoring her mother's blathering, she twirled the radio dial until she found a song that she recognized. With an exasperated sigh, she removed the phone from her ear and stretched after her purse. Her fingers searched through its contents until they wrapped around a cigarette.

"Yeah, I know I have a few points on my license, _but they're not for speeding,"_she stated, blazing the cigarette. As she pulled her first relaxing drag, her mother asked how she'd enjoy being a blood splatter on the asphalt.

Rolling her eyes, she pulled another inhale of her cigarette. As the smoke burned calm into her lungs, she checked the time again. Still knowing she'd be late, she rolled her eyes at the clock.

When Marissa's eyes finally glanced back at the road, a cyclist appeared directly in front of the car.

"_Oh my G-d!" _she screamed, cutting the wheel hard to the left.

Her Honda careened across the oncoming lane of traffic, colliding with the guardrail before she could even tap the brake. Shaking uncontrollably, she reached for her phone.

"No, Mom, I'm fine. I just hit something. _I'm okay and no, I wasn't speeding!_ I'll call you back in a minute," she promised, ending the call before her mother could speak. Placing a hand to her head, she rubbed the blood trail that trickled down her face. She breathed deeply, stumbling slowly out of the car. As her phone started ringing again, she threw it behind her on the driver's seat.

With an agitated exhalation, Marissa went to check the front end's damage. Before she reached the hood, she noticed a break in the guardrail several feet away. Thankful that her car hadn't found the opening, she headed over to the edge of the steep incline.

When she peered down the ravine, she noticed a large, twisted mass of red metal at its bottom. Several long seconds passed before Marissa realized that it had previously been a car.

"Hey! Hello? Anyone down there? Are you alright?"

Disoriented from her head injury, she stared blankly at the obliterated wreckage until she noticed the human arm hanging out of the driver's side window.

She sprinted for her phone.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**4:52pm – Bullpen – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –**

Checking his watch for the umpteenth time, _Very_ _Special_ Agent Anthony DiNozzo closed his eyes and thought about his _very_ _special_ weekend. Using the team's first break in month to his advantage, he'd planned a short vacation to the vineyards of Virginia. Originally, he'd decided to use the time to visit a few local wineries, tasting their wares and enjoying the picturesque scenery. His retreat had been intended to let him power off his cell phone, giving him time to mentally regroup before the team's next round of cases.

However, his intentions for relaxation had quickly changed after he'd met a young graduate student in a bar days earlier. Several years his junior, he quickly learned that Jessica was the type of girl who would be up for anything. When he'd mentioned his trip, she'd selflessly offered to tag along and do everything necessary to help him forget about work.

Since his mother raised a gentleman, he just couldn't turn down her generous suggestion.

Shuffling through the papers on his desk, he glanced at the time on his just to make sure it was synchronized with his watch. As he flipped through his most recent texts, one of Jessica's particularly creative ideas made him grin.

_This had the potential to be one hell of a weekend. _

Throughout the bullpen, the rest of the team appeared to be finishing up their work. Though as DiNozzo studied their faces, he knew his teammates well enough to know they were anxiously watching the minutes tick away, exactly like him. Leaning behind his desk, he rifled through his weekend bag to confirm that he'd packed all the necessities.

His phone chirped with another text from Jessica. At her newest addition to their fun, he smiled wickedly.

_The last thing he needed to pack was the very self-less co-ed. _

"What is this one's name, Tony?" Mossad liaison Ziva David asked, glancing up from the same report she'd spent the last hour proofreading.

"Why do you always assume that it's a woman, Zee-vah? Maybe I'm just looking forward to my plans," DiNozzo stated, shaking his head.

Another text popped up and this round of thoughts caused sweat to prick his brow. Loosening his tie, he averted Ziva's gaze.

_Jessica was definitely a girl after his own heart. _

"Because you only look like that when you know you're going to get - ," Special Agent Timothy McGee started, leaning forward onto his desk. When he realized they were in mixed company, his cheeks blazed and he looked back to his computer.

"Maybe I am and maybe I'm not," DiNozzo leered, checking his watch again. With only a few minutes to go until the official start of the weekend, Tony figured it was time to power down his computer, organize his papers and slide his reports onto Gibbs' desk.

_That would ensure his chances at escaping by five before Gibbs could spring a case on them. _

"If these plans do not have a name, what will you do with your weekend then?" Ziva asked, sliding the partially proofread report into the top drawer of her desk.

"Wine tasting in Virginia," Tony explained, hitting the button on his monitor.

"You will be alone, yes?"

"No, actually, there - ," Tony stopped suddenly. Realizing the Israeli's trick, he shook his finger. "Nice try, Zee-vah, but I'm not giving it up that easy. What are you doing with your weekend?"

Ducking behind her desk, she reappeared holding a thick book with a picture of Abraham Lincoln on its dust jacket. As she displayed it to DiNozzo, she beamed at the cover. DiNozzo shook his head while McGee nodded approvingly.

"That's supposed to be a good read," Tim acknowledged, switching off his computer. "It got great reviews online."

"I know. I am happy to have the time to read it. Perhaps I will finish it this weekend?"

"If you can get through a thousand pages in two days, Ziva, I'll be impressed." McGee stood, dropping his backpack on his desk. As he rummaged through his drawers, he pulled out few things to take home for the weekend.

"A thousand pages? _In one book!?"_ DiNozzo raised his eyebrows.

"It is about one of the most influential men in your country's history," Ziva explained, lightly resting her hand on the tome. "It is unlikely to be enough for his entire story."

"I think I'll wait for the movie," Tony shrugged, shaking his head at Ziva's lapse in sanity. "You got any big plans, McGoo?"

"Not really." Tim made a face before settling back into his chair.

"Really? No _Star Trek _convention?"

"Come on, Tony, you know those only happen once a year." When DiNozzo smirked at Ziva, McGee's face flushed again. "Seriously though, I don't have any real plans."

"No hot date with some geek chick? Or picking up some nerdy women on the internet? _It's been a while_, hasn't it, McPriest?"

As Tim's face turned a shade of red that DiNozzo never knew existed, the senior agent snickered. Ziva picked up her letter opener and turned it in her hand, silently informing Tony that he'd crossed a line.

DiNozzo coughed, unsuccessfully trying to disguise his laugh.

"But seriously, Probster, you have _no plans_? We haven't had a whole weekend off all summer. There has to be _something_ that you want to do."

When Tim shrugged again, DiNozzo found himself concerned that McGee might not actually remember how to enjoy the downtime. Since Tim rarely spoke of his life outside the office, Tony sometimes wondered if the junior agent did anything at home other than sleep. While he learned a lifetime ago to escape through women and movies, DiNozzo worried Tim had never learned to adapt to their workload. Even Ziva seemed to be able to handle the cases, but her life-long training left her constantly in work mode.

"I _do_ have plans," Tim smiled, zipping up his pack. "A new MMORPG, _Iscariot, _is debuting this weekend. I've been looking forward to playing it since I heard about it months ago. My college friends and I are going to meet up on the server for our annual gaming session and check it out."

Nodding slowly, DiNozzo failed to understand how spending his weekend in front of a computer after doing it all week sounded even remotely entertaining. A virtual college reunion was nowhere near as appealing as an actual get together.

_Well, a geek's social life was probably slightly different than an aging frat boy's. _

As DiNozzo pieced together what he could from his last weekend with his frat brothers, he shook his head. There were just some things that couldn't be captured in the virtual world. Body shots, co-eds and wet t-shirt contests were three of them.

"Sounds like fun," Tony stated, attempting to sound genuinely excited. Despite his efforts, he failed miserably.

"Should be," McGee nodded, glancing towards his watch. "It's almost time."

Grinning broadly, DiNozzo stared at his own. As the second hand ticked slowly towards five o'clock, he shivered at the excitement of two whole Gibbs-free, case-less days.

_Two full days with __Jessica. _

With only a few seconds away from freedom, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs purposefully rushed into the bullpen. Coffee cup in hand, he headed to his desk and pulled out his Sig. Sighing resignedly, McGee frowned at DiNozzo. Knowing exactly what was happening, Tony kicked his weekend bag under his desk and shook his head at Tim. His phone chirped its alarm, alerting him to a weekend of freedom that wouldn't come.

"Dead Navyman in Rock Creek Park," Gibbs ordered, clipping his holster to his belt. "Grab your gear."

"Boss," Tony protested as his boss passed his desk.

Even though there was no chance to change Gibbs' mind, DiNozzo still had to try to recover the weekend for his team's sake. When the alarm sounded, Barrows' team should be on call and the body theirs to investigate.

Gibbs stopped dead, glaring at the senior agent.

"Got a hot date, DiNozzo?"

Reluctantly, McGee and Ziva removed their personal items from their backpacks and started to repack their gear.

"Well, boss, actually," DiNozzo grinned.

When Gibbs stepped forward, DiNozzo cringed. Inhaling deeply, Tony tried to ignore the scent of strong coffee and sawdust that oozed from his boss' pores. While Gibbs' blue eyes attempted to bore a hole through him, Tony looked over helplessly at McGee.

"_Cancel it."_


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer : As always, I own nothing but my typos.**

**Author's Note : **_Thank you to everyone who's read, favorited, and followed so far. Extra thanks to **angelscatie, Darkwriter69, AgentD.6 SkySpade, scousemuz1k, Maunzeli, Moonlight1234, and Guests - toilmama **and **Cassiopeia. **_

_Thank you for your thoughts I appreciate the time you took to let me know what you think. I'm completely overwhelmed by the support the first chapter garnered. Thank you so incredibly much. I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did writing it.  
_

_To answer toilmama's question : there is a quite a bit of Tim/Tony friendship, but it's not the main feature of the story. It's more moments within the scenes. Somebody is going to get whumped pretty good, but I haven't quite gotten there yet. _

_To answer Cassiopeia's review : definitely will finish both stories. Still waiting for the inspiration for Limbo to hit again. _

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**6:27pm - 2500 Block of Waterside Dr NW – Washington DC –**

"Keep your eyes peeled for Gibbs," DiNozzo ordered, carefully maneuvering the NCIS truck down the twisty road. As he rounded another hairpin turn that abutted a steep drop-off, Tony fixed his eyes on road.

"Why would I peel my eyes?" Ziva questioned, glancing over at the senior agent. "They are not fruit."

With an exasperated sigh, DiNozzo always forgot about her inability to comprehend the most basic American euphemisms. He wondered if there was any equivalent in the Hebrew vocabulary of the Mossad officer.

_It probably involved some sort of violence. _

"Just look for Gibbs and Ducky," he stated, cutting the wheel hard to stay in his lane around a sharp right. A tailgating Nissan laid sounded its horn.

As Tony traveled the road at speeds that made McGee look like a lead foot, he tried to ignore the parade of trailing cars that had accumulated behind the truck. With their murder scene on a quiet road that served as an alternative route to the congested highway, DiNozzo felt embarrassed to be driving the vehicle responsible that delayed the commuters' rush home.

"There they are!" Ziva exclaimed, pointing at a Dodge Charger pulled onto the narrow shoulder.

Quickly pulling off the road, Tony slammed on the brakes. When McGee collided with the back of the cabin with a dull thud, DiNozzo winced. Turning off the truck, the senior agent shook his head. After Ziva's first attempts at American highways, DiNozzo had rigged a makeshift seatbelt in the back of the truck for the long drives. For some inexplicable reason, Tim refused to use it.

_Well, if the Probie got bruises, they were all his fault. Tony had tried to keep him safe, even if he wouldn't use the seatbelt himself.  
_

DiNozzo climbed out, watching the line of cars fly past the truck. Towards the end, the autopsy van pulled in behind the truck. While Tony waved at it, McGee hopped out of the back, shrugging on his jacket.

"So where's Gibbs?" Tim asked, glancing around the tight shoulder by a steep incline.

Taking in the scene, DiNozzo noted the gap in the guardrail and absent team leader.

_It could only mean one thing. _

"He is down with the crime scene," Ziva stated, appearing behind Tim's shoulder. With a yelp, McGee lurched forward, barreling into Tony. Righting the junior agent, DiNozzo quickly pushed him away.

"Come on, McLovin'. I know it's been a while, but I don't swing that way," Tony smirked at Ziva. Tim blushed fiercely before grabbing the evidence bag and sprinting away. While DiNozzo assembled the camera, Ziva pulled on her hat.

"I do not understand how you could swing. We are not on a playground," she said, confusion evident on her face.

Rolling his eyes, DiNozzo ignored her and followed McGee. When he passed the autopsy truck, he nodded a greeting to Medical Examiner Donald Mallard and Autopsy Assistant Jimmy Palmer.

"Hello, Anthony!" Mallard smiled, carrying his bag while Palmer struggled to extricate the gurney from the truck.

"Hey Ducky, Palmer," DiNozzo nodded, pausing by the guardrail to study the steep incline to the crime scene. At its base, a twisted mass of a former car rested. Barely visible next to the vehicle, Gibbs knelt, studying something on the interior. Already on the hill, McGee moved slowly, bracing himself against a tree. As Tony zoomed the camera in for an aerial photo of the crime scene, his boss glanced up.

In the viewfinder, Gibbs' narrowed eyes were clear.

"_DiNozzo, get your ass down here!" _

"On it, boss!"

Tony headed through the opening in the guardrail, missing the sympathetic smile on Mallard's face. When he headed down the slope, he suddenly realized why McGee had been taking it so slowly. Navigating his own course carefully, DiNozzo stopped himself against a tree before jogging to the next one.

When the grade suddenly steepened, DiNozzo missed his mark, overshooting the next tree. As his shoes slid over the rocky ground, he picked up speed, unable to reach out for anything to stop himself. Several feet ahead, McGee plodded along. Knowing he was about to collide with Tim, Tony dropped the camera.

"_Probie, move!" _

Tim had just enough time to glance over his shoulder, wide-eyed.

Unable to stop, DiNozzo tackled McGee, knocking him down the rest of the hill. Tony rolled, feeling every rock and bump on the ground. His vision became a convoluted montage of dirt, sky and Tim until he slid onto the level ground.

Something soft collided with his side and he heard McGee moan quietly.

As he lay still, feeling tiny bruises prick their way to the surface of his skin, DiNozzo watched the clouds race across the spinning sky. Overhead, Gibbs' angry face joined the kaleidoscope.

"Glad you two could join me."

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**7:01pm - 2500 Block of Waterside Dr NW – Washington DC –**

As they scattered around the base of the ravine, the team worked furiously against the day's dying light to collect evidence. Meticulously cataloging the location of each piece of debris, McGee and Ziva stood next to a piece of bumper. Crouched by the car, Gibbs studied the young man slumped against the steering wheel of his Subaru. By his boss' side, DiNozzo snapped a picture of the civilian-clothed corpse.

"How'd they figure out he was Navy?" Tony asked, zooming the camera at the victim's ashen face.

"Metro checked the license plate. Guy who owns it wore dress whites for his license picture. They didn't want to climb the hill," Gibbs explained, pushing the crumpled door further open. Before Gibbs reached into the corpse's pocket, Tony aimed the camera at the small blood splatter on the airbag.

"Sounds like Metro," Tony laughed, clicking a photo of the blood splatter on the interior of the windshield.

"Levi Fox," Gibbs stated, holding the driver's newly liberated license.

Standing from the body, Gibbs checked on the whereabouts of the rest of his team. McGee and Ziva slowly slid the piece of bumper into their small pile of evidence. At the top of the hill, Mallard and Palmer were just beginning their descent. Presumably having witnessed DiNozzo's tumble, they carried the gurney down on their first trip.

Trying to eke out the last of the dying light, DiNozzo snapped more pictures of the body. Out of nowhere, a gurney whizzed past the car.

"Sorry!" Palmer shouted, still halfway up the hill.

Moving to the other side of the car, Gibbs exasperatedly rolled his eyes. DiNozzo smirked, glancing over the rest of the scene. Noticing McGee's approach, Tony flashed the camera in his face.

"Come on, Tony," Tim begged, blinking his unfocused eyes owlishly. "Knock it off. I already have to go back up the hill to get more evidence bags for Ziva."

"Rock, paper, scissors?"

"She still can't understand why scissors don't automatically win."

Laughing heartily, DiNozzo snapped another picture of McGee. As the junior agent rubbed his eyes, Gibbs rose from his spot, storming back around the car. He laid a heavy handed smack to the back of Tony's head, glaring the senior agent down until DiNozzo's attention focused back on the car. Still blinking the spots from his vision, Tim shrugged at his boss.

"Doesn't this seem like a lot for a traffic accident, boss?"

"What makes ya say that, McGee?" As Gibbs' blue eyes fixed on him, Tim swallowed audibly.

_Bad idea, Probie. _

"Well," he started, fidgeting with his cap, "the car went through the guardrail and ended up down here. It just seems like a straightforward accident, doesn't it?"

Not allowing his boss a chance to speak, DiNozzo let the camera hang around his neck.

"Really, Probie?"

While the trio stood in silence, McGee rubbed the back of his head as though he could feel Gibbs' phantom head slap. Glancing over the car, Tim's eyes desperately searched for something that he'd missed.

DiNozzo sighed quietly.

"It wasn't an accident, McGee," he explained, watching doubt cloud Tim's eyes. "Alright, no skid marks on the main road, right?"

"Yeah," McGee agreed, raising his eyebrow at Gibbs who'd returned to prying open the passenger door.

"Nobody drives a car like this," DiNozzo pointed at the Subaru's large spoiler, "without knowing how to brake into a turn. It's a street race. Didn't you ever see _The Fast and The Furious? _Paul Walker, Vin Diesel? It's - ."

Tim's apologetic shrug made DiNozzo want to spur into the movie's plot. It wasn't an American classic but the film had been enjoyable, even though Tony wouldn't freely admit it to anyone. Before he could regal McGee with its storyline, Gibbs' angry growl returned him to the point.

"Anyway, whoever owns a car like this knows how to drive it. More importantly, they know _how to control it. _Look at the wheels," Tony gestured to the tires pointed straight ahead. "If you misjudge a turn, wouldn't you at least try to turn the wheel so you didn't die? Plus the car's in neutral. Probie, if you're about to go off a cliff, what would you do?"

"Hit the brakes and turn the wheel," McGee answered, nodding when he realized they were no longer dealing with a straightforward accident.

"Right," DiNozzo grinned, impressed by his subordinate's progress.

When McGee smiled back, Tony snapped another picture.

"Come on, DiNozzo," Tim groused, blinking hard as he stalked off towards the trucks.

As Gibbs continued to wrestle with the tangled metal of the passenger door, DiNozzo studied the placement of the body inside the car. When he noticed a dark substance under the corpse's fingernails, he snapped a picture. He was about to alert Gibbs when Mallard appeared by his arm.

"Why, hello again, Anthony, hello Jethro," the aging medical examiner said. Not looking up, Gibbs' head bobbed on the opposite side of the car. As he took a step back, the team leader tried to glare it into submission.

"You guys made good time today," DiNozzo nodded, wondering about the blush that crept across Palmer's face.

"Well, since Mr. Palmer managed to have his license suspended for speeding, it appears I'll be spending more time behind the wheel," Mallard explained, narrowing his eyes at the assistant. Jimmy blushed, dropping to dig through the medical bag. "I've found we get lost much less frequently now."

Tony did a double-take at the crouched autopsy assistant.

_Palmer, a speed demon? Better make that speed gremlin. _

"So how fast were you going, Palmer?"

As Mallard shooed DiNozzo aside, the medical examiner took the proffered liver probe, inserting it into the corpse's abdomen.

"Well, it really wasn't that fast," Jimmy laughed, putting his hand on his thighs. "It was only sixty in a thirty-five. Guess I wasn't paying attention."

"Speaking of not paying attention, Mr. Palmer," Mallard chastised, shaking the liver probe at his assistant. With a nervous exhale, Jimmy took it, cleaned it and dropped it into the bag.

"You know, Jethro, that hill reminds me of how we used to go orienteering when I was back in sixth form," Mallard monologued, carefully examining one of the victim's hands. Both he and Palmer leaned the corpse back in the seat. "With nothing more than a compass and a topographical map, we'd be left to - . Oh my, that's certainly curious."

Finally wresting the passenger door open, Gibbs leaned onto the adjacent seat.

"Whaddya got, Duck?"

"Well, based on liver and air temperature, this young man died sometime between eight and midnight, last night. I won't know cause of death until we get him back home, but this is most interesting."

Pointing to a bloodied spot in the center of the corpse's chest, Mallard tapped on the wound. As he aimed the camera, DiNozzo captured an image of the twin bullet holes.

Stretching under the mess of twisted dashboard, Gibbs reappeared with two shell casings. His angry eyes met DiNozzo's. With a slow nod, Tony confirmed his boss' thought.

"Definitely not an accident."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer : I own nothing but my typos...and the occasional OC.  
**

**Author's Note :** _Thanks to all the favoriters, followers and readers so far. I'd also like to extend an extra thanks to **angelscatie, Megth, Clamanter, Maunzeli, jmsings, crocadile1986, Alsa Ravenwood **and **Guests - Cassiopeia and River. **_

_Truly appreciate the thoughts and reviews. They're rewarding after all the hard work. So thank you so very much again. _

_To answer River's question : I never really liked the end of chapter previews, never can seem to be able to cut down my chapters into a few words. Summaries are hard enough. So I think I'll let the story unfold as we go. _

_If you're following **Limbo** too, new chapter will be up early this week. Inspiration always seems to hit when I'm supposed to be busy doing other things..._

_Hope you enjoy the Easter update. _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**10:18pm – Bullpen – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –**

With a dejected sigh, McGee finally sent the e-mail that he'd written to notify his friends about his expected absence from their gaming session. He reached for the take-out, sighing again when he realized he'd missed their last three virtual get-togethers. Even though he still had enough time outside the office to enjoy the occasional video game, McGee felt disappointed to miss his first opportunity to catch up with his friends since he'd joined Gibbs' team. Half-heartedly impaling his ziti with a plastic fork, he tried to recall why he'd missed the past three sessions.

_Always a case. Always work. Always Gibbs calling them in last minute. There was nothing in his life but work. _

Almost instantaneously his inbox flashed with a response from his college roommate. As he skimmed the news about his friend's recent exotic vacation and that his wife had finally conceived their first child, McGee numbly chewed the cold mass of noodles. Not knowing how to respond, he minimized his e-mail and launched a search into their victim's military records instead.

Across the bullpen, Ziva and DiNozzo stared at their computer screens, deeply involved in their own reconnaissance. While McGee reviewed Fox's list of promotions and movements around the military, he sighed again. Seemingly concerned, DiNozzo glanced at the junior agent.

"McGee," Ziva called, looking up from her computer, "does something trouble you?"

Eyes still fixed on his monitor, Tim limply shrugged and continued to comb though the records.

"Yeah, Probie, why the long face?"

"Tony, McGee's face maintains its normal proportions," Ziva countered, raising her eyebrows at DiNozzo.

Still compiling his information, Tim smirked at her comment while Tony's brow crinkled in confusion. Before DiNozzo could respond to her comment, his phone interrupted them. When he checked the caller, he grimaced and shut the ringer off.

"Your weekend plans?" Ziva asked, watching Tony shrug indifferently. "You should just tell her."

"Yeah, but this is easier," DiNozzo shrugged, chucking his phone into his desk.

Dropping his fork into the takeout container, McGee shut out his e-mail when one from another friend appeared in his mailbox. Even though they didn't keep in touch often, Tim liked to think that he and his friends were still close. As he double checked his search parameters, McGee didn't have the time to realize that it'd been over a year since he'd spoken to any of his friends outside of NCIS.

"Better be, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled, storming into the bullpen. Omnipresent coffee cup in his hand, the team leader headed for his desk. He settled into his chair, glaring expectantly at his agents. Stepping into the hallway between the desks, DiNozzo clicked the remote at the plasma, bringing up a picture of young, dark haired main in dress whites.

"Abby's fingerprint analysis confirmed that our victim _is _Fire Controlman 2nd class, Levi Fox. Paygrade E-4. Twenty-seven, born and raised in Lewisburg, PA. Enlisted at age 22 after graduating from NYU with a degree in IT management. Completed Advanced Electronics Technical Core Course in Great Lakes, Illinois in 2001 before active duty. Coming up on the end of his first sea tour."

Seemingly out of information, DiNozzo tossed the remote to McGee.

"Fox was stationed out of Norfolk on the _USS Gonzalez. _On the destroyer, he worked as an SPY-1A, AEGIS Radar System Technician. He was responsible for the equipment testing to support the ship's combat system," Tim stated, bringing up a few documents. "His personnel reports are generally positive, but there isn't anything to really indicate that he stood out in any way, good or bad. Only thing on his civilian record are several speeding tickets through Metro."

"Just like speed gremlin." When Gibbs glared at DiNozzo, he nodded. "Shutting up, boss."

Ready for her turn, Ziva held her hand out to McGee. Throwing her the remote, Tim sank back into his desk chair. With a few clicks, she brought up a picture of a young dark-haired man that looked surprisingly like Fox as well as a rental agreement.

"According to personnel reports, Fox lived with a roommate in a rented house in Norfolk just a few miles from the Naval base. His parents moved here to DC approximately two years ago and his older brother, Simon, is currently deployed to Iraq."

"Army?" Gibbs asked, interest piqued.

"Marines," Ziva reported, placing the remote on her desk to signal the end to their information.

As Gibbs took a long sip of his coffee, he nodded slowly, mulling their progress.

"DiNozzo, McGee, go to Norfolk. Ziva, with me."

Gathering his gear, Gibbs marched towards the elevator with the Israeli close behind. Without needing to pack, Tony grabbed the weekend bag from under his desk and slung it over his shoulder. While DiNozzo lounged against his workspace, McGee rummaged through his drawers to pull out a small overnight bag. Even though Tony had nagged him for months about needing an extra set of clothes at the office, Tim had never listened until he'd been sent to run down a lead in a small town in West Virginia. With no clothes at the office nor Walmart on the outskirts of the town, McGee had suffered through a week of living in the same suit. Experience had certainly taught him to employ Tony's suggestion.

Grabbing his backpack and overnight bag, McGee headed past Tony towards the elevator. When he checked his watch, he pressed his lips together and shook his head. In just a few minutes, the server would be opening. While his friends explored a new digital world and caught up with their lives, he'd be sitting in a car with DiNozzo, headed for the Virginia coast.

On their way out of the bullpen, McGee caught Tony swipe the garlic bread off his desk.

"Hey, McGee," Tony started, catching up as Tim punched the button for the elevator, "you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Who's driving?" Tim responded brusquely, while DiNozzo swept the breadcrumbs from his shirt.

"I am," Tony nodded. "I want to get there before daybreak."

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**10:49pm – Residence of Fox's Parents – Chevy Chase, MD –**

As Gibbs scraped the tires of the Dodge Charger against the curb, he exhaled slowly. Climbing out of the car, he glanced down the quiet residential street. At the end of a short driveway, an unassuming white-paneled rancher waited for their approach, its porch light burning like a beacon in the night. Heading up the lawn, the team leader unzipped his coat in the unseasonably warm air.

Beside him, Ziva moved so quietly that her footfalls barely sounded over the grass. While he stepped up to the porch, Gibbs braced himself for the impending conversation. He would have preferred to wait until the following morning to discuss the matter, but he knew firsthand the anguish of delayed news involving the death of a child. Even after all these years, he'd never forgiven his executive officer for withholding information about Shannon and Kelly. Originally told that he'd family had been involved in an accident, he'd packed his things in the desert and flown halfway around the world. It wasn't until he touched German soil that someone had the dignity to tell him that his girls were dead.

_No parents should have to live a life of normalcy while their child grew cold in a morgue. _

Ziva reached past him to knock, pulling him out of his memories back into the present. When a dog barked to alert its master to the midnight visitors, a light in the hall flicked on. The door opened, allowing a hound's head to poke out followed by an older woman's tense face. Stooping, Gibbs let the dog smell his hand and the animal instantly relaxed.

"Edith Fox?" Gibbs asked, drawing his ID. "Special Agent Gibbs and Officer David, NCIS."

Slowly stepping away from the door, she covered her mouth. Tears instantly ran down her face.

_"Howie!"_ she screamed, bringing her hands to her face.

A loud crash echoed deeper in the house and an overweight, bald man rushed into the hallway. Red-faced and breathing hard, he shoved his glasses higher on his nose.

"It's Simon. Oh, Howie," Edith rasped, crumpling into her husband's arms, "they're here about Simon."

While she sobbed quietly into his chest, Howie Fox squared his shoulders, ready to accept the news. He tried to appear stalwart, but his own tears appeared at the corner of his eyes.

"We're not here about Simon," Gibbs explained. "It's about Levi."

"Levi?" Howie questioned, pulling his wife closer. "What happened to Levi?"

"Could we come in to discuss it?"

Gibbs looked over Howie's shoulder, focusing on a picture on the wall of two similar looking men in their respective military dress. Youthful and broad-smiled, they appeared to have their whole lives ahead of them.

"_What happened to my son?" _

"He was found dead this morning in Rock Creek Park."

"Dead? _He's dead?_ How? It was a car accident, wasn't it?"

"Murdered," Gibbs stated, knowing there was no reason to spare details.

As Edith disappeared into the house, the team leader swallowed hard. No matter how difficult, Gibbs knew the family always deserved to know the truth. Gesturing for the agents to follow, Howie pulled them into the family's living room. Tightly packed with neat furniture, it had one too many couches to be called cozy. Scattered around the room were pictures of the two men at various points in their childhood.

"Tell me about your son," Gibbs stated, stepping towards a picture of Levi in his dress whites.

"Good kid. Had some trouble in high school with drugs, nothing major though, just pot and painkillers. You know how kids are. But after Simon enlisted in the corps, Levi decided to join the Navy." He smiled apologetically, the tears welling in his eyes again. "That's the way Levi was, always following in Simon's footsteps, always seeking his older brother's approval. Didn't matter what his mother and I thought, only Simon."

Howie paused, staring blankly at the picture of his two boys.

"Smart kid though, could run circles around me and his brother. Levi must have got that from his mother. Once he joined the Navy, he cleaned up his act. Only thing he did wrong now was drive that damn car too damn fast. He still owes me money for the traffic tickets I paid for him," Howie shook his head when he realized what he'd said. "_He_ o_wed me." _

_Levi's l__ife would be entirely told in past tense from this moment forward. Just like every moment Gibbs had ever shared with his girls._

"Has he visited you lately?" Ziva interjected, crossing her arms as she studied Howie.

"Yeah, he's been on leave for a few weeks. He's getting ready to ship out for another sea tour, so he came to visit us for a week like he always does. We were hoping Simon could get leave too. Just didn't work out."

"When did you last see him?"

"He headed back to Norfolk two days ago. Said he needed to organize a few things before he got underway."

Nodding slowly, Gibbs looked over the pictures on the fireplace's mantle. Before his eyes, the smiling baby morphed into a gap toothed child then passed into first a graduation robe and then a Navy uniform.

_A whole life in snippets of life-changing moments. He wondered what Kelly would've become if given the chance. _

"Did everything appear suitable?" Ziva spoke up when Gibbs didn't.

Unsure about the question, Howie glanced at Gibbs who shrugged.

"I think so? He seemed like himself, just getting tired of all the deployments. He was really looking forward to switching to shore duty for the shorter tours. He hasn't had a chance to see his brother for over a year," Howie said, frowning deeply.

Over the course of the conversation, Gibbs had watched the man age well beyond his years.

"Do you know who did it?"

"We do not," Ziva apologized, inspecting the carpet. "We are sorry for your loss. We will make contact when we have more news."

As the agents turned to leave, Howie plucked a picture of Levi and Simon as children out of its location in a frame. Touching Gibbs' shoulder, the father pushed his picture into the team leader's hand. Frozen in the image, two nearly identical dark-haired boys grinned wickedly back. Gibbs looked up, facing Howie.

"_Please, Agent Gibbs, find who killed my boy." _


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer : As always, I own nothing.**

**Author's Note :** _Just like to start out as always by thanking all the readers, favorites and followers. I continue to be amazed by the response this story has received. _

_Extra special thanks to those who dropped by to leave me a review : **Dixie Dewdrop, scousemuz1k, angelscatie, Maunzeli, AgentD.6, Rogue Tomato, **and **diana teo. **Your words and support are truly appreciated and inspiring. Thank you guys again.  
_

_First section of the chapter wasn't an easy conversation to write, really hoping it came out okay.  
_

_Shooting for this weekend for the next chapter, if real life calms down a bit. Got more work to go with this one then I thought. _

_Enjoy.  
_

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**Saturday, September 30, 2006 – 1:01am – Somewhere on I-95S, Heading Towards Norfolk, VA –**

On the nearly deserted highway, DiNozzo watched the headlights of a truck vanish from the rearview mirror. The late hour left the road devoid of cops and other cars, allowing Tony to push the Charger to speeds that would make even Ziva's head spin. If he did happen to run into a LEO, he'd just slip his badge on top of his license. No self-respecting officer would write a ticket for a federal agent in the middle of a case, or so he'd been taught all those years ago at the Academy.

Surely, the curriculum couldn't have changed.

As he checked the clock, he realized they were making good enough time that the might be able to find a hotel and crash for a few hours. In the passenger seat, McGee stared morosely out of the window. Since they'd left NCIS, the junior agent had barely breathed a word. Not even DiNozzo's lighthearted jabs about Tim's distrust of garlic bread could get a rise out of him.

There were so few things in life that DiNozzo could rely on : the incredible acting prowess of Cary Grant, Gibbs' everpresent coffee, a pretty girl with a gin and tonic to cure whatever ailed him and McGee's defensive stance on the evils of garlic toast. When the junior agent had rolled over and played dead earlier, Tony knew something had gotten under his thin skin.

McGee sighed quietly and Tony shook his head.

"You okay, McGee?"

_Maybe the seventh time was the charm. _

"Yeah, I'm fine," he responded, leaning his head against the window.

"Come on, Tim," DiNozzo pressed, switching off the radio. "I can tell something's bothering you."

At the unusual use of his first name, McGee visibly flinched, glancing over at DiNozzo. Even in the dark, Tony could see the younger man trying to gauge his sincerity. While an absent father and boarding schools left DiNozzo unequipped to express his emotions, Tony truly did value his friendship with Tim.

Not that he could ever figure out how to admit that to McGee without wrapping it into a well-articulated jest.

The senior agent nodded towards younger man, trying to assuage his obvious doubts. After a long pause, Tim exhaled loudly, resigning himself to the fact there was no one else to speak to.

_Didn't matter how as long as he got Probie talking. _

"How do you keep doing this?" McGee questioned, staring at the trees that rushed past the car. "We haven't had a weekend off in three months because there's always a case. Even if we get one scheduled, it's _always _interrupted. I can't keep plans. I - . I just - . How do you - ?"

Shaking his head, Tony listened as McGee solidified his fear. Tim never truly learned how to adapt to the constant motion of the agency's lifestyle. From the pages that rang all hours of the night to the horrific crime scenes they were called to clear to the long hours trapped behind a desk, the junior agent never learned an escape that granted him freedom from the harshness of reality. While DiNozzo utilized women and alcohol to quell his woes, he found it remarkable that Tim had found anything to fill the void.

It took DiNozzo several minutes to decide how to explain it to the junior agent.

"I just do," Tony stated, absently tapping his hand on the wheel. "I wake up every day and go. If my plans fall through, I make new ones. If someone doesn't like it, I find new people to spend time with. You adapt and find something to squeeze into the few minutes we have off."

"Movies?"

As Tony started to speak, his phone rang loudly. When he noticed Jessica's number on the caller ID, he sent it to voicemail and tossed the phone into the backseat. Tim grinned at him, neither of them needing to add women to the escape plan.

"Something like that. What ever happened to that nurse?"

"Wait, you knew about Elise? You went through my phone, didn't you?" McGee asked, his features tightened in premature anger.

Though as he stared back out the window, he seemed to realize how Tony had started treating him just like Kate. A ghost of a smile haunted Tim's lips, he pulled out his phone and ran his hand over the screen as though trying to erase some memory. DiNozzo hadn't even needed to know McGee's password to know the younger man had a girlfriend. The picture of a pretty brunette and Tim, arms entwined and broad-smiled, on the home screen had been the indicator. Tony had merely confirmed his suspicions by infiltrating the computer geek's text messages and photos.

Three months after her appearance on his screen, she vanished with nary a word from McGee to confirm nor deny her existence.

"You're not as sneaky as you think, McGee. _We all knew you had a girlfriend._ What happened?"

"I couldn't keep plans to see a movie. She got tired of me always canceling dates last minute so she dumped me a few weeks ago. I thought it was just her, but then I had to cancel those plans with my friends this weekend. This job - ."

"Is going to leave you alone in a basement, knocking back bourbon and building boats?"

"Yeah, something like that," Tim frowned.

"Well, Probie, you just need to make whatever you want in life a priority. If someone is right for you, they'll understand and you make it up to them later. It's all a balancing act. You just bend until you break. If you don't break, you need to realize that's a good day."

When DiNozzo noticed the exit sign for Norfolk rapidly approaching, he sighed loudly, happy to be able to end the uncomfortable conversation. Despite all his efforts at meaningful talks with anyone nearby, DiNozzo never could muster anything deeper than the banality of weather patterns or the smoothness of his Scotch. Seemingly at the same realization, McGee glanced over at his superior, needing to grasp hold of the man who rarely made an appearance, the actual man that Tim admired.

"But Tony - ," McGee started, pausing when DiNozzo raised his hand.

"Don't ask me, Tim," he laughed. "I never did figure it out."

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**1:22am – Forensics Lab – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –**

Riding the elevator from the cafeteria to Abby's lab, Gibbs reflected on the night's events so far. With Ziva at home for a few hours' sleep, the team leader needed to put together what little evidence they had accumulated.

_0500 would come soon enough. _

Contorting himself to hold the CafPow and coffee in one hand, he pulled the picture of their victim out of his pocket. With both boys smiling mischievously, it was a memory that any parent would cherish. Gap-toothed and gangly, Gibbs figured Fox was likely around eight years old in the photo.

Despite his best efforts to forget, he remembered his own daughter during the summer right before his last tour. When Kelly was about the same age, she'd spent an entire July afternoon digging through their garden for buried treasure. Knowing she'd turn up nothing but worms, Gibbs had spent hours watching her through the kitchen window. Not even the record temperatures or July sun could break her focus. Eventually, she'd come to him, dirt crusted in her fingernails and clutching her spade. At her insistence, he'd gone into the backyard to help her turn up that elusive treasure.

It had been nearly dusk when they unearthed his watch.

A contented sigh and the memory vanished as quickly as it came. Checking the time, he smiled at the speck of dirt lodged between the glass and metal. No matter how many times he'd cleaned the watch, he'd still occasionally discover pieces of dirt on the timepiece.

_Even though she was gone, Gibbs couldn't forget about his girls. No matter how hard he tried, and damn he hated that he even did, but Kelly just wouldn't let him forget her. _

When the elevator doors started to close, Gibbs kicked his foot out and slid into the hallways. Stalking towards Abby's lab, the quiet that lingered left him disconcerted. He flew into the lab, doing a double take at its dark and deserted interior. When he stepped towards her empty office, he wondered whether she'd gone home for the night. Swigging his coffee, he suddenly realized Abby was going through the victim's car in the evidence garage.

Turning back towards the elevator, he glanced down at the CafPow in his hand. While he waited, he held it to his nose and smelled the sickeningly-sweet aroma that permeated from underneath the lid. As he climbed into the elevator, his curiosity managed to get the better of him.

He pulled a sip through the straw.

The acrid taste of fake fruit assaulted his tongue, burning his throat all the way down to his gut. Coughing, he leaned against the elevator wall and choked on the caustic sensation. Desperate to stop his taste buds' merciless slaughter, he chugged his coffee, downing almost the entire cup. But the massacre wouldn't stop. When he arrived at the garage, he was doubled-over, still gagging. Coughing violently, he stumbled off the elevator. By the time he composed himself, he heard a loud humming somewhere on the floor.

The twisted ruins of the red Subaru sat in the center of the garage. A table holding the pile of bumper and pieces of the car sat a few feet away. As he approached the vehicle, he noticed Abby Scuito's legs hanging out of the passenger side.

"Abby?" he called, listening to her sing an incoherent, off-key tune. When she didn't respond, he tapped her foot. She screamed and leapt out of the car, landing in Gibbs' arms.

"Oh, hey, Gibbs," she shouted, grinning sheepishly.

"Whaddya got, Abs?"

When she looked confused, he motioned to her headphones. Laughing heartily, she pushed them down around her neck.

"Aren't these great, Gibbs? They're wireless! Tony, Ziva and McGee gave them to me for my birthday. I finally got a chance to rewire the garage so I could use them. That way the director will stop complaining about hearing my music in her office. I just can't think without it," she smiled again, punching a button on the headphones. As she reached after the CafPow, Gibbs shook his head.

"Whaddya got?"

"Are you getting sick, Gibbs? You should a little hoarse, well, maybe I should say you sound like a pony. Or maybe not, since technically a pony's not really - ."

"I'm not sick," he interrupted. Incredulous, she pressed her hand to his forehead. When his glare told her to move on, she gestured towards the car.

"What we've got here, Gibbs, is a 1999 Subaru WRX STI S201. Fox upgraded it to incorporate a nitrous injector, ceramic brakes and a better suspension. Mechanically, the car's in great shape, except for the whole accident thing."

"Fast car?"

"_Really fast car,"_ she agreed, leaning into the passenger seat to point at the floor mat. "I found a weird smudge right here. I'm about to head down to the lab to run it through Major Mass Spec. There are a couple partial prints I pulled off the passenger door. Going to run those too."

As he stood, Abby grabbed Gibbs' arm, leading him towards the evidence table. She picked up two evidence jars, one contained the twin shell casings and the other a mangled bullet.

"They're a .380 ACP. My bullet was in the trunk and it's way too mangled to check for striations. Though if you get me some ammo, I bet I can match the casings. But it'd be even better if you get me a gun, then I check the markings on the casings. If you want an actual confirmation, I need the trifecta. The gun, the ammo _with _my bullet. Or maybe Duckman might get luckier than me."

Taking in Abby's red-lipped grin, Gibbs expected a summary of their evidence so far. With her eyes anxiously on the CafPow, he gestured towards the car.

"The destruction is consistent with going over the edge of the hill, but it wasn't going very fast. Damage indicates it didn't hit more than 40 by the time it hit the bottom. Don't forget, it's in neutral."

"Car was pushed over the edge."

"Yep, plus the blood splatter is consistent with the gunshot, not the accident. I'm going to head to my lab to run those prints and the smudge."

Nodding, Gibbs passed the CafPow into Abby's outstretched hands. As he watched her pull a sip through the straw, his taste buds burned in sympathy for hers, though they had likely been cauterized by the beverage long ago. Heading back to the elevator, the team leader didn't see her push the headphones onto her ears.

Hopping off at the morgue, Gibbs finished his drink. Thankfully, his taste buds were still too badly damaged to taste the end of the NCIS coffee; though maybe it good that they had. As the doors swished open, he shivered slightly at the cool air that escaped. Completely empty except for whoever slept in the freezers, autopsy was pitch dark. Just enough light poured through the glass doors for Gibbs to steal a roll of paper towels from the handwash station. Dropping them onto a gurney, the team leader settled in for a quick rest before another day started.

As he drifted away, he heard a ghost call his name. A smile rose to his lips and in that instant before sleep, he saw Shannon's hauntingly beautiful face rush towards him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer : Everything remains property of CBS. No copyright infringement intended. I made no money from this, only entertaining myself.  
**

**Author's Note :** _Thanks to everyone who's read, followed and favorited so far. Extra big thank you to **DS2010, scousemuz1k, AgentD.6, ProfessorElk, Maunzeli, diana teo **and **angelscatie **for taking the time to leave your thoughts. The time you take to support me is truly appreciated. _

_Meet a Navy officer in this chapter, I have absolutely no idea what rank would be commanding and executive officers on a destroyer so I guessed. If anyone knows, PM me so I can correct this detail. _

_Hate to ask, but I'm finding this story to have a bit more introspection/extraneous details for the characters than the last two case-fics. Good or bad, thus far? _

_Not sure when the next chapter of **Limbo** will be up, so bear with me. I'm nearing the end of this one and it's quite a ride. _

_Enjoy the newest chapter. _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**5:47am – Autopsy – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –**

Just as Gibbs bent down to scoop up his giggling daughter, a blinding light flashed in his face, obliterating her smile and her mother's form. Blinking awake, he pressed his hands over his eyes, attempting to recapture the fleeting reunion. After his retinas had a few seconds to adjust to the sudden intrusion, he glared at the drop ceiling overhead in autopsy. He heard a squeak of a shoe on the linoleum, instinctively reaching for the gun on his empty hip as he swung off the gurney.

By the open autopsy doors, Jimmy Palmer stood stock still for several beats, mouth gaping at the team leader pointing empty hands at him. Suddenly, his face twisted in terror.

"Zombie!" he shrieked, tearing into the hallway.

"Palmer," Gibbs growled, rolling his eyes at the autopsy assistant's retreating form. The rapid footfalls stopped and Jimmy's nervous face peered around the corner.

"Gibbs, is that you?" Keeping his distance, Palmer's form materialized in the doorway.

"No, Palmer, I'm a zombie," Gibbs growled, watching Jimmy debate whether he should bolt again. Exhaling slowly, the team leader counted to ten like Mallard had suggested when Palmer irritated him.

_If it worked for Ducky, then it had to work for him too, right? _

Gibbs only made it to three.

_"Yes, it's me. What the hell are you doing?" _

"Well, I - . You see, Dr. Mallard asked me - . There's - . Uh, I need to prep the body. We're starting the autopsy at seven and the doctor should be in shortly," Palmer nodded, hugging the wall as he slid past Gibbs towards the office. Still in his dress clothes, Jimmy's formality looked out of place in the dankness of the morgue. With a nod, Gibbs swiped the cup of coffee from Palmer's hand as he passed.

"Gibbs, that's - ," Jimmy paused, laughing awkwardly when Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "If I had known you'd be taking a batnap, I'd come later."

"Catnap?" Gibbs supplied, sampling Palmer's coffee.

_Well, at least Palmer's good for something. The coffee was nearly as good as his usual. _

"Yeah, that's what I meant. Ziva keeps calling them batnaps. Every time I talk to her, I keep picking - ," Jimmy smiled nervously, seemingly unable to stop the rapid conversation that spilled out of him.

_Word vomit. _

Completely disinterested, Gibbs marched towards the elevator. Cracking his neck, he checked his watch and wondered whether Abby would have more information. As he hopped off on her floor, he smiled when he felt the pounding of her music in his bones. He strode into her lab, doing a double-take at her knee caps. Standing on a stool and stretching towards the ceiling, the forensic scientist let out a loud exhale.

"Abby?"

He raised his eyebrow at the skull on her tights, a small part of him dying for an explanation to her actions. When she glanced down at him, he decided he probably didn't want to know. While her charades usually begged clarification, he'd worked with her long enough to know that it likely involved nuns, some sort of inane search for personal growth, strange nightly rituals or a plea for Caf-Pow.

_More often than not, she tried to squeeze every last drop of Caf-Pow out of him. _

"Gibbs!"

Grinning, she leaped into his arms. Barely maintaining his footing, his pilfered coffee sloshed dangerously in its cup.

"You know Sister Rosita's been on vacation this month, Gibbs. So her stand-in, Sister Margarita, has been teaching the team to find their center before a match by using tai chi. When I did a little research on my own, I found one of the modern teachers, Hau Zhan, says that you should lift yourself from the earth to the heavens."

"The roof?" Gibbs suggested, pointing upwards. As her eyes followed, Abby nodded, clearly not having thought of the idea. "But whaddya got?"

"Well, I pulled five partial prints off the passenger door and one off the shell casings. The one on the casings matches one from the door. I didn't get any hits on the first one when I ran it through Metro and AFIS, so I expanded it and its' still going." Her head tilted towards the computer that ran an active fingerprint search.

Gibbs pulled another swig of Palmer's coffee, nodding as much at his enjoyment of its smooth finish to Abby's information. Wrapping her gloved hands around Gibbs' arm, she led him across the lab towards a plasma screen that displayed a blood splatter panel, like a macabre masterpiece. With her other pictures scattered throughout the lab, the image blended into the overall decor. Gibbs wondered why she hadn't started framing her splatter prints, though for all he knew they could adorn her apartment's walls.

"I confirmed that the splatter occurred from the gunshot, _not the accident," _she pointed to the different splatter patterns. "These are all the patterns that could have been caused by the accident according to my simulation. As you can see, the pattern isn't even close."

"Meaning?"

"Fox was probably already dead when he hit the bottom of the ravine."

"Thanks, Abs," Gibbs started to head out of the lab, but she maintained her death grip on his arm.

"Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs! I'm not done yet," she said, pulling towards another computer. "I ran a trace on the blood in the car. Most came back as A negative which is a match for Fox, except for this area." She pointed to a small spot in the splatter that edged the gearshift. "It's type O, positive."

"And?"

"Well, it's the most common blood type in the country. But bring me a sample and I can match it."

With a nod, Gibbs made his retreat.

"Wait, Gibbs!" He froze, turning around to see Abby's outstretched hands. "Where's my - ?"

"When you get me ballistics," he stated, watching her frown.

"I can't do anything without Duckman," she wailed, holding her hands out to show her progress without the medical examiner's information. Shrugging, Gibbs started towards the door. When he passed the fume hood, some machine began bleating frantically, begging for Abby's attention.

"Major Mass Spec has something for me. You better get ready to go get me a CafPow," she gasped, rushing towards the annoying piece of equipment. When she clicked a few buttons, a chemical composition loaded across the screen. Shaking her head, she tapped on the machine. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Told ya earlier, Abs, fine," Gibbs growled, sipping the coffee again. Its flavor satiated his taste buds, leaving him grinning.

"I was asking Major Mass Spec," she answered, sounding distracted. She tapped the top of the machine, watching the same chemical composition reappear on the screen. "_Oh, Gibbs." _

"What is it, Abs?"

"That white smudge from the passenger floor mat is a crude combination of cyclotrimethylenetrinitramine**, **2,3-dimethyl-2,3-dinitrobutane, diethylhexyl, polyisobutylene, and trace amounts of motor oil. Based on the - ."

"Abs."

"Ratio, it's a little bit different than the professional stuff, but it's still close. Close enough to be bad, really bad."

"Abs."

_"Oh my G-d, Gibbs, this is so not good. You can't - !" _

Grabbing her shoulders, the team leader shook her gently as a signal to calm down. Even though he didn't think he could pronounce those words if he tried, Gibbs knew Abby well enough that her reaction was unsettling. While she had a tendency to be over-emotional in life, the level-headed researcher inside Abby was typically unflappable about the evidence she dealt with on a daily basis. But when she wrung her hands and glanced up with wide eyes, her features tight, a pit weighed heavy in Gibbs' stomach.

_"Abs? What?"_

_"Gibbs, that's C4." _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**7:42am – Residence of Lieutenant Commander Josiah Lake – Virginia Beach, VA –**

As DiNozzo pulled the Charger into the driveway of an expansive brick house, he looked over at McGee. Slightly less morose than the night before, the junior agent nursed a cup of coffee. It seemed that the few hours of sleep they'd managed to catch in the rundown motel did him some good. At least one of them was rested since DiNozzo didn't feel like he'd slept much at all. The groans emanating from Tim's ancient mattress, a byproduct of his violent tossing and turning, had roused Tony every time he'd managed to pass out.

Stifling a yawn, Tony figured the crack of dawn wake-up call from Gibbs certainly didn't help either.

"Do you think the executive officer will be home?" McGee asked, sliding his coffee into the cup holder.

"Who knows? If he's not, we'll work our way down the chain of command until someone is," DiNozzo stated, scrambling out of the car. While they made their way to the front door, Tony ran his hands through his mussed hair. He frowned at the oppressive thickness already in the air, knowing that the unseasonable humidity would only grow heavier as the day pressed forward.

_What a terrible day to forget his product in his desk. _

Sighing, DiNozzo hoped that Lake wouldn't mind the early morning intrusion. Originally, Tony had planned to place a few calls and schedule a late morning interview. But when Gibbs told him about the C4, he'd been forced to rework the plans. They stopped in front of a heavy wood door and McGee nodded back at Tony before knocking on it. Rolling his eyes at Tim's polite raps, DiNozzo followed up with a pounding that echoed throughout the interior.

"Tony?"

"He's home, Probie. Paper's been delivered today. It's either none or a pile," DiNozzo explained, pointing at the rolled newsprint by his foot.

Halfway through his second round of pounding, the door creaked open. A tall, middle-aged man wearing a robe appeared, rubbing his hands over his face. He leaned against the door frame, examining both agents curiously. With the dark circles under his eyes, he appeared to have had a worse night than Tony.

_Or perhaps he had the kind of night Tony was supposed to. _

"LtCmr. Josiah Lake?" DiNozzo asked, reaching for his badge.

"Yeah, who are you guys?"

"Special Agents DiNozzo and McGee, NCIS," Tony responded, gesturing between himself and Tim. "Do you know where Commander Raez is?"

"On a cruise of all places. That crazy bastard can't get enough ships. Personally, I like my leave on land," Lake nodded, cinching his robe. "Can I ask what this is about?"

"We had a few questions about one of the men under your command. Firecontrolman 2nd Class Levi Fox?" McGee stated, removing a small picture of their victim from his coat pocket. Lake took the picture, studying Fox's smiling face in his dress whites. With a half-hearted shrug, Lake passed the picture back to Tim.

"He's under my command, seen him around the ship a few times, but damned if I know anything about him. I really never had any issues with him. Trouble's the only way I seem to remember those boys anymore. As far as I know, I think he's a good kid. You have to realize that the _USS Gonzalez _is a big ship, gentlemen. There's a lot of sailors that I look out for. But what'd he do? Is it going to prevent him from deploying with us?"

"Actually, lieutenant commander," DiNozzo interjected, "he was murdered. Did he have any issues with anyone on the ship?"

As Lake raked a hand through his hair, his frown deepened. Pressing his lips together, he thought hard for several moments. Eventually, he shook his head.

"Sorry, I can't think of anyone. Like I said, the only people who stand out to me are the ones that I have problems with. If I have no issues, I usually don't have much contact with them. Most of the men prefer it that way."

"Can you think of anyone who might know Fox better?" McGee questioned as Lake's face turned thoughtful.

Eventually, the officer nodded tightly.

"How you met this person won't appear in the report, right?"

"Excuse me?"

"If you found this person who knew Fox on a personal level, you don't have to mention how you met them in your report, correct?" Lake asked, meeting DiNozzo's gaze. Absently, he twirled his wedding band. Inhaling sharply, Tim began to respond before Tony cut him off.

"Met who?" DiNozzo winked.

Holding up a finger, Lake disappeared into the house. When the door closed, Tim narrowed his eyes at Tony.

"You know we can't omit that kind of detail."

"Probie, this guy turns up dead in a car with homemade C4 on the floor. You really think Gibbs gives a damn about where we meet the witness?" DiNozzo questioned, watching McGee shrug resignedly.

When the door opened again, a dark-haired woman appeared in Lake's spot. With an empty ring finger and definitely wearing Lake's robe, DiNozzo knew she was certainly not the captain's wife. As she glanced between the male agents, she pulled the bulky men's robe closer to her body, covering her tanned flesh. It did nothing to hide her generous figure. Letting out a strangled cough, McGee checked on the Charger, just in case someone might be trying to steal it.

"Agents DiNozzo and McGee, NCIS," Tony introduced, displaying his badge again. "And you are - ?"

"Petty Officer Third Class Mara Sabatini, _USS Gonzalez," _she smiled suggestively at DiNozzo, the robe slipping offer her shoulder. When he laughed and grinned back, Tim cleared his throat.

"Did you know Firecontrolman 2nd class Levi Fox?" McGee asked, holding the victim's picture out. Twirling her hair slowly, she pulled her eyes off DiNozzo long enough to study the picture.

"Yeah, Levi and I dated about six months ago," she nodded. "Is he okay?"

"No, he's not, he was murdered," DiNozzo answered, disappointed that their flirting was completely done with the news. Hugging the robe tighter to her body, sadness crossed her face.

"Wow, that really sucks. Levi was a nice guy, really smart too. We were only together for a few months, but I was upset when it didn't work out. Guess he just wasn't the right guy for me. Any idea who did it?" When DiNozzo shook his head, she pushed a tear off her cheek. "Have you guys told Andy yet?"

"Andy?" McGee asked, retrieving a small notebook from his coat.

"Yeah, Levi's roommate, Andy Newman. He's a little strange, but decent. Some sort of modern-day hippie or something. He and Levi have been living off base for a few years. I never would have guessed that Levi met him on Craigslist unless he told me. You know how most people only seem to have met crazy people off the website," she laughed ruefully, glancing out to the road.

"We're headed there next," McGee stated as DiNozzo's cell phone rang. "Did you know anyone who might have wanted to hurt Levi?"

"Well, I don't know if it means anything," Mara said, touching a hand to her face. "But when we first started dating, he took me out to dinner in DC after I met his parents. Some crazy girl threw a drink his face and yelled at him how he ruined her life. I think she said_ she was going to make him pay_ _for everything." _


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer : Everything remains property of CBS. No copyright infringement intended.  
**

**Author's Note :** _Thanks to everyone who's reading, favoriting and following. Glad to see the response the story has gotten. As always, huge thanks to **Duxe, scousemuz1k, Maunzeli, DS2010, angelscatie **and **Guest - NCIS fan. **_

_Thanks for the support. I appreciate the time you take to leave your thoughts. _

_Enjoy. _

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**9:12am – Autopsy – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –**

Stepping off the elevator, Gibbs sipped the coffee he'd bought in the cafeteria when he picked up Abby's newest CafPow. Not one to purchase the beverage of his own volition, it had been an impulse buy when he slid into the line at the check-out register. The carafes, full and inviting, begged him to grab a cup and fill it with the offensive liquid. Proximity and an impending caffeine crash was responsible for the drink he swilled. Shaking his head at the drab paper cup, he rushed through the automatic doors into the morgue and, for the first time, actually hoped that he'd run into Palmer.

"Whaddya got, Duck?"

Both Mallard and Palmer, dressed in their macabre trade's attire of sterile gowns and masks, leaned over the corpse on the autopsy slab. While the medical examiner pulled down his mask, dribbling blood across it, Jimmy quietly shucked off his gloves and gown. Grabbing a few evidence jars from the side table, the assistant slid away in his best attempt escape unnoticed.

"You're just in time, Jethro. As always, your timing is most uncan - ."

Only stealthy in his wildest dreams, Palmer bumped into the edge of the gurney, sending numerous instruments crashing to the floor. Mallard and Gibbs whipped their heads to stare at him. He pushed his glasses higher on his nose, pressing his lips together as he glanced between the instruments and the door, uncertain as to which carried precedence.

"I have - . There are, er, samples. I have - . _Abby," _Palmer gasped, breaking towards the door.

"Not yet, Mr. Palmer," Mallard ordered, motioning his hand for one of the jars. Not bothering to glance at Gibbs, Jimmy passed him the one holding several pieces of a bullet. "As you can tell from the fragments, I'm unsure if Abigail will be able to confirm ballistics. We shall see what she able to ascertain."

"Thank you, doctor," Palmer stated, sliding towards the door when Mallard waved him away. Gibbs passed Jimmy his jar, raising his eyebrows at the twitchy assistant. "My mother sends me the beans for the coffee! I know - . Maybe - . I'll – I'll bring you some tomorrow, Agent Gibbs!"

When Gibbs nodded his approval, Palmer sprinted out the sliding doors.

"Should I inquire?" Mallard asked, perplexed by Gibbs' smirk.

"Whaddya got, Duck?"

"Well," Mallard gestured to Fox's slightly disfigured face, almost blue under the surgical lights, "our poor lad has numerous facial fractures, as well as a fractured left femur, crushed pelvis, and dislocated right hip. Both arms are also fractured in numerous places. While these injuries are a result of the accident, the distinct lack of a callus on the bones and swelling within the tissues indicate they occurred postmortem.

"Cause of death was the bullet I just sent upstairs with Mr. Palmer. As you can see," Mallard pointed to the burned tissue around the entry wounds, "the poor boy was shot twice at close range. First bullet passed through soft tissue, exited through his back and missed all his vital organs. The second nicked his left ventricle and shattered on his spine. Fragments were littered around the thoracic cavity. Death would have been instantaneous."

Gibbs nodded, starting towards the door.

"I'm not finished yet, Jethro," Mallard called, pausing until Gibbs returned to his perch beside the body. Rolling the body's shoulder up, he pointed to an exit would. "The remaining bullet seemingly stayed intact on its exit. It should be somewhere inside the car."

"Yeah, Abby found it, didn't look much better than yours. We looking at a body dump, Duck?"

"Perhaps. Although the distinct lack of defensive wounds indicates that the poor boy either knew his attacker or was lulled into some sort of security. Why, Jethro, did you know the mafia used to dispose of their victims by - ?"

"Thanks, Duck!" Gibbs yelled, sprinting towards the elevator.

He rode the slow car up to the bullpen, trying to make sense of the Navyman's strange death. With his brain turning over the pieces of the puzzle that didn't quite mesh yet, he absently swigged his coffee. All he needed was a little bit more time to allow the tidbits to come together or give him the time to push until he made them fit. With enough time and force, any connection could be established and any crime solved. Rounding the corner to his desk, he noticed Ziva standing at attention for his arrival. He gave her the go-ahead, nodding at her slender form, and she pointed the remote at the plasma, bringing up a news article.

"Gibbs, I have found another accident at the site where we uncovered Fox's car. Two months ago, three teenagers died at that site when the driver lost control of her car. There is no connection between our victim and the girls."

Leaning across her desk, she registered a few hollow mouse clicks and displayed a picture of the accident scene from Metro. The image, a straight shot of the broken guard-rail taken from the road, matched their picture of the same spot.

_Seemed like VaDOT never got around to fixing it. So whoever killed Fox knew about the accident site. _

He paused by the plasma, too engrossed in the information to even take the coffee, and Ziva changed the image to a young brunette's DMV photo. With her attractive features and perfect smile, she resembled the stereotypical college co-ed that she probably was.

"McGee called to inform me that a witness saw our victim fighting with another woman approximately six months ago. She threatened to 'make him pay for everything. I checked Fox's phone records and found many calls from Helen Mittermeier around that time. One day she called him thirty nine times. Fox obtained a restraining order against her in June. We did not uncover that during out first search because the reporting officer spelled Fox's name incorrectly."

_Who the hell misspells the name, Fox? _

Sliding behind his desk, Gibbs removed his gear from his desk. He motioned for Ziva to follow, clipping his gun to his belt as he passed.

"Hell hath no fury," he mused, stalking out of the bullpen. Confusion passed over Ziva's exotic features.

"How can hell anger?" she asked, checking her back-up clip as they walked. "A physical place is incapable of emotion."

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**10:23am – Residence of Levi Fox and Andrew Newman – Norfolk, Va. -**

On the concrete porch of a small blue rancher, DiNozzo dramatically rolled his eyes at McGee and pounded on the glass door again. A darkened figure passed by the glass, heading deeper into the hall. Tony let out an agitated sigh, nodding when Tim reached for his weapon.

"I know you're in there! _For the love of G-d, I can see you_!" he shouted, feeling the door shake with the next round of pounding. Smiling tightly, McGee leaned just against the frame, Sig always ready for the action he rarely saw.

"You know Boss and Ziva went to follow up with the woman Mara told us about, right? Fox had a restraining order against her," McGee reported, keeping his eyes on the door.

"Yeah, I know, Probie. You told me in the car on the way over."

Wiping a trickle of perspiration from his brow, McGee smiled apologetically. As the unseasonably warm day pressed on, the humidity rolled up the Virginia coast like an oppressive blanket. The light breeze that blew past pushed the stifling air into Tony's lungs, leaving him drenched in his newest addition to his Zegna collection. With the amount of money he'd just dropped on the suit, DiNozzo figured that he would have to deal with the sweat.

_Like his father always said, "when you look good, you feel good." _

_As Tony grew older and expanded his taste in clothing, he always had a sneaking suspicion his father stole the quote from somewhere. _

Unbuttoning his jacket, Tony ran his fingers over the delicate wool craftsmanship while McGee rapped on the door. Something crashed inside and Tony finally pulled out his weapon as well.

"Mr. Newman! We need to talk to you!" Tim yelled, peeking through the glass.

DiNozzo pushed him aside to pound on the door again.

_"Newman! Open the door! We're here about Levi Fox! I know you're in there! I can still see you!" _

The noise inside quieted down and Tony nodded at Tim. At the unspoken order, the junior agent leaned against the opposite side of the door, obscuring his body from the inhabitant. When the figure approached the front door, DiNozzo gestured his head and McGee raised his weapon. A blonde head popped out, followed shortly by a smell of stale pot and old pizza. While the pajama-clad man stumbled onto the porch, Tony coughed violently, clamping his hand over his nose and mouth in an attempt to ward off the smell.

"Who are you guys?" Newman asked, glazed eyes jumping from Tony to Tim and back again. "Whoa, you guys have guns."

Rolling his eyes, DiNozzo holstered his weapon and started into another coughing fit.

"Special Agents McGee and DiNozzo, NCIS," Tim explained, showing his badge and motioning to the hacking senior agent. "We have some questions about your roommate, Levi Fox."

Waving half-heartedly, Tony studied McGee through his watering eyes and wondered how Tim seemed immune to the pungent stench emanating from Newman. As he gasped for air again, Andy eyed him cautiously and slid towards the door.

"Why do you guys need Levi? He's visiting his parents in DC. Should be back tomorrow. He leaves on the boat in a few days. You guys know he's in the Navy, right?"

Sharing an incredulous look with DiNozzo, McGee shook his head.

"Yeah, that _might _have come up during our investigation," DiNozzo rasped, catching Tim's amused smirk. "Levi's dead."

"Who, man, shit, really?" Newman asked, his eyes focused momentarily on Tony's face. _"That sucks, like really freaking sucks, man. _I liked Levi. He was nice, always paid rent when he was on the boat. What happened?"

"He was murdered Thursday night," DiNozzo paused, searching for any reaction. Unfortunately, Newman's emotions were muted from whatever drug he'd dropped before the interview.

_Well, at least that explains why he didn't come to the door right away_.

"Murdered? Levi, really? Shit, that still sucks. Are his parents okay?"

"They're taking it hard," McGee answered. "Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt him?"

"Levi? No, he was alright. Everyone I knew really liked him. He did his thing, I did mine. We really didn't do too much together."

"Do you mind if we look through his things?" Tim questioned, raising his eyebrow when Newman returned from stoner oblivion.

Eyes wide, Andy looked down at the outline of pizza grease on his Batman pajamas and glanced back through the glass front door. Smiling nervously, he scratched his head.

"You're not, uh - , going to call the police, right?"

When Tony started to shake his head, he noticed McGee's jaw muscles tense out of the corner of his eye. With a sigh disguised as a cough, Tim glanced back towards the Charger, just in case anyone had decided to steal it on the opposite side of Norfolk. Many lifetimes ago as a uniform, Tony had learned overlooking a small crime could lead to a bigger bust. Even though Tim hadn't realized it yet, DiNozzo knew catching their murder trumped sacrificing an officer for an ethics violation or arresting this stoner in the middle of his breakfast.

Tony grinned at Newman, thumping the stoner's back. When the stench of pot and pizza assaulted his olfactory gland, DiNozzo held his breath, barely catching breakfast that rose to his tongue.

"Why would we need to call the police?"

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**11:01am – Residence of Helen Mittermeier – Washington, DC –**

Not bothering to pause at the red light, Gibbs barreled across the street with Ziva close behind him. They headed towards a dilapidated, inner-city apartment building that encompassed nearly half a city block. With most of its windows open, the complex seemed to invite the mid-morning heat to fill its units, leaving its occupants to swelter. Gibbs marched up the sidewalk, stepping out of the way as a scantily-clad woman sought refuge in a parked Mercedes. When she slid into the passenger seat, leaning over suggestively at the male driver, the team leader raised his eyebrows at Ziva.

"This is the address from the DMV, Gibbs," she stated, staring at a man who passed a stack of cash to another. The team leader paused, staring at the grimy reception area through the spray painted glass. When the door creaked open, he wondered how the young co-ed managed to fall through the cracks and land in a place like this.

"Apartment A5."

Sliding past the grimy, peeling wall paper, Ziva followed Gibbs through the poorly lit hallway with the dying florescent light overhead. Its death march, leaving intermittent flashes dancing before their eyes. He counted the apartments in succession, passing doors with more locks than he knew possible, vain attempts to keep out the crime that swirled around the neighborhood in an unchecked storm.

When they reached the appropriate one, Gibbs reached for his badge, staring blankly at the scratched, light wood door peppered with dents. He knocked heavily, wrapping his hand around his Sig just in case. After the sound of several dead bolts unlocking, a brunette appeared. With dark circles under her grey eyes and greasy hair, the woman seemed much older than the supposed resident.

When she glanced up at Gibbs with her lifeless eyes, he blinked slowly, barely catching the resemblance to the broad-smiled co-ed from her license photo.

"Can I help you guys?" Helen Mittermeier asked, leaning against the doorframe. Unable to stand how her clothes hung to her skinny frame, Gibbs peered over the woman's shoulder and noticed the filthy studio.

"Helen Mittermeier?" Gibbs asked, flipping open his badge when she nodded. "Special Agent Gibbs and Officer David, NCIS. We're here about Levi Fox."

Her fatigued features darkened as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"What about him?"

"He took a restraining order against you. Why?"

"It's a long story and I really don't have the time," she nodded, narrowing her eyes between Ziva and Gibbs. "What's going on?"

"Fox was murdered," Gibbs stated, staring at her intently. The anger melted from her face as she sagged her weight against the door. Barely able to believe it possible, Gibbs frowned at her increasing frailness. She pushed her hair behind her ears, sniffling quietly.

A baby's scream tore through the apartment, clenching Gibbs' heart as he remembered every night he'd sat outside Kelly's door. With a hiccupped wail of her own, Helen sank to the floor and began sobbing uncontrollably.

"I can't - . She won't - . I can't - . I just can't - . Please make her stop. _Just make her stop_," she moaned, covering her face with her hands.

Nodding silently, Gibbs stepped over the young woman's sprawled legs into the decrepit apartment. Directly in its center, a double bed stretched into nearly all of the available space. Clothes and dirty dishes were strewn across every available inch, including the bed except for a small spot in the middle where Helen probably slept. On top of scratched and beaten dresser, a small bassinet contained a pink-clad newborn.

"Hey there," Gibbs crooned, scooping up the baby with a parent's expertise. He cradled the newborn to his chest, feeling her warmth comforting despite the heat. When he rocked her gently, she stared intently at his face, her cries quieting. Studying the baby's dark hair and delicate features, he remembered the first time he held his own daughter.

Helen sobbed on the floor and Gibbs barely managed to swallow the lump that rose to his throat on the thought of Kelly.

Hugging her knees her chest, Helen glanced up at the team leader. Tears streaming down her face, she hiccupped and Ziva knelt down to gently rub her shoulder.

"The doctor says it's just colic," she sobbed, sliding her nose over her forearm. "He says it'll go away in a few months. But it's been nonstop since I came home. I can't do this for a few more months. _I have no one to help me. I haven't slept in weeks. _All she does is cry. When I first told Levi I was pregnant, he wanted me to end it. I just couldn't. I – I – I'm Catholic. My parents are dead. _My faith is all I have left of them. _So I called him to try to make him understand. I wanted him to man up. To be a father or at least give me money to get her out of this hell hole. So he called the cops on me. I shouldn't have - . I wish I'd listened to him."

The baby fussed, kicking out, and Gibbs hugged her closer. He closed his eyes and indulged in a fleeting connection to his own little girl. When he looked back at the stricken woman in front of him, he wondered whether she actually meant the words she'd spoken. Despite all his pain at the loss of his girls, he wouldn't sacrifice their memories for anything, some days their brief existence was all that sustained him.

_He'd move heaven and hell for just one more day in Shannon's arms, just to hear Kelly's laugh one more time. _

"Agent Gibbs," Helen nodded, leaning her head against Ziva's chest, "meet Naomi, Levi's daughter. I only wanted him to help me give her a better life than this."


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer : As always, I own nothing but my typos.**

**Author's Note :** _Thanks to all the followers, favoriters and readers. Extra thanks to **AgentD.6, ****scousemuz1k**, **diana teo** and **angelscatie**. I appreciate your thoughts on the last chapter and it was great to see your feedback on it. I enjoy seeing what you guys think. _

_Hope everyone is still liking the story thus far, as they say no news is good news, right? _

_To answer the questions about who gets beat-up, I think I managed to get everyone including one of my OCs. Some more, some less. _

_Enjoy the newest one. _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**2:25pm - Residence of Levi Fox and Andrew Newman – Norfolk, Va. –**

Sitting back on his knees, Tim McGee watched Tony DiNozzo press his hand against his mouth and stifle a hiccup. Before the junior agent could ask how his superior felt, Tony's eyes widened and he rushed out of Fox's bedroom for the third time since they'd arrived at the house. The sulfuric, burnt rope smell that clung to the air had seemed to set off DiNozzo's stomach, continually sending him for fresh air or to revisit breakfast. McGee hadn't bothered to ask Tony what he was doing. Rifling through the contents of Fox's bottom dresser drawer, Tim sniffed the distinctive scent of marijuana.

Not one to experiment with the drug himself, Tim had grown accustomed to the aroma in his junior year of college when he roomed with a cannabis aficionado. Inhaling deeply, McGee reminisced about the roommate who regularly brought him pizza while he studied into all hours of the night. Having always thought the man eventually flunked out of MIT, the junior agent had been shocked to read an alumni update about how his roommate had managed to retire at 30 after a successful internet start-up.

Shaking his head at the peculiarity of fate, McGee sighed when he found only clothes in the drawer. He rose to his feet, pressing his hands to his thighs and leaving latex dust trails all over the front of his khakis. Rubbing a gloved hand to the back of his head, Tim peeked into the closet and shook his head at the neat arrangement of blue camos, service khakis and a garment bag that held Fox's dress white. Brow furrowed, McGee moved to the center of the room and glanced through the evidence pile that he'd developed without Tony's assistance.

It only contained a digital camera with a dead battery, laptop and a few books. Unfortunately, his in-depth search had elicited a few questionable magazines involving women, car manuals, and enough movies to keep DiNozzo entertained for months. Those items were slated to be left behind.

The noticeable absence of drug paraphernalia that invaded the rest of the house surprised Tim.

_Maybe Fox didn't share his roommate's taste in hobbies. _

McGee crossed his arms, dust clinging to the crook of his sport coat's arm. He studied the bedroom, his gaze taking in the unframed posters tacked to the walls, the floor to ceiling bookshelf full of DVDs and car manuals and the small picture of Fox and his brother on the empty nightstand. When his eyes hit the unkempt bed, McGee realized the only place he hadn't searched was under the mattress.

_Well, his grandfather had stashed his life savings under mattress, so maybe Fox kept something important under his?_

Flipping the mattress off the box spring, McGee raised his eyebrow at a small pile of brightly colored paper. He picked one up, turning over the flimsy, fluorescent pink paper. Underneath the header of a small globe, the words "Put Earth Before Yourself" appeared in aggressive, block font. Tim scanned the paper quickly, shocked to read how the group decried the Navy's role in the death of Marine life.

"Find something, Probster?" Tony asked, making McGee jerk violently.

Laughing nervously, the junior agent stretched after the pamphlet that had fluttered from his grasp. When he glanced up at Tony, he frowned at the lazy smile plastered across his superior's face. DiNozzo stepped to the evidence pile, eyes jumping around the room. He paused and moved the objects around with his foot, not bothering to even look through McGee's progress.

Tony's strangely mellow demeanor suddenly left McGee uneasy.

"Yeah, actually, I found these brochures under Fox's mattress. Listen to this. 'Every year, hundreds of whales are executed by America's Navy in the name of National Defense. Even more whales are tortured through the use of SONAR and other activities. _The senseless slaughter must be stopped at any cost._' Don't you think it's weird for an enlisted person to have anti-Navy propaganda?"

"Yeah?" Tony asked, after studying the ceiling. "Did you notice the ceiling, Probes? It looks like popcorn."

Tim glanced overhead, taking in the raised flecks of the stuccoed surface. Brow furrowed, he met DiNozzo's widened pupils. Realizing why Tony seemed even stranger than usual, McGee rubbed the back of his head, a strong scent of latex wafting from his hand.

"Do you think we should head back to NCIS?"

"Sure," Tony responded, sliding an evidence bag out of his pocket. DiNozzo placed his hand inside, staring slack-jawed at the appendage.

"You feeling okay, Tony?"

"Oh yeah, McGee. I'm great. Actually, I'm greater than great. _I'm the greatest." _Making a fist, DiNozzo laughed hysterically. "You know, Mc-Gee. Mc-G. McGee. That's a fun word to say. Mc-Gee. Rhymes with orange."

Raising his eyebrow, Tim nodded slowly.

"Um, yeah. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Well, McG, I'm kinda hungry," he giggled, slipping an evidence bag around his other hand. "You know, that rhymes too. What do you think about stopping for French fries on the way back?"

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**5:55pm – Bullpen – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –**

DiNozzo trailed McGee off the elevator, moving the evidence box away from himself to let his rumpled jacket fall flush with his body. Stifling an overstuffed hiccup into his upper arm, Tony grinned sheepishly at Tim's over the shoulder glare. Before he could defend his actions, another hiccup escaped his lips.

"Four cheeseburgers," Tim groused, holding his fingers up, "and three orders of fries."

"What can I say, Probie? _I was hungry," _Tony grinned unapologetically. "You could have eaten yours, if you wanted."

"DiNozzo, you know I don't eat while I drive like you do. It's dangerous."

"Well, then you really can't complain."

_"You even drank my milkshake," _Tim grumbled, glaring as Tony passed him on the way into the bullpen.

DiNozzo hoisted the evidence box higher in his hands, trying to recall their search of Fox's house. Unfortunately, his memories were as hazy as the marijuana-laden air had been. Tony glanced over the contents of the evidence box, trying to determine what possessed Tim to grab some of the items he did. Tony marched towards his desk, stopping abruptly when he noticed a small-figured brunette draped across it. Eyes closed and chest rising slowly, she was dead asleep. Nonplussed by the intruder, Ziva worked quietly at her desk, transferring information to plasma screen where Gibbs stood.

"Uh, boss?"

The team leader turned to face DiNozzo. Clutched tightly to his chest, Gibbs rocked a baby swaddled in a pink blanket. Tony pressed his hands to his head, wondering if he'd gone insane on the drive back from Norfolk. When he glanced back into Ziva for more information, McGee seemed to be lost in his own thoughts and ran straight into Tony's back.

"Ton - ," he started, pausing when he noticed the baby in Gibbs' arms.

"Probie, I'm not still - ?" DiNozzo whispered, unable to take his eyes off his boss holding a baby.

"Oh no, I see it too. Just how long were we gone?"

"Witness," Gibbs growled quietly, pointing to the woman sleeping on Tony's desk. When the baby started to fuss, loud wails escaping her tiny lungs, Gibbs narrowed his eyes at the senior agent. While the team leader rocked the baby back to sleep, DiNozzo waited for him and Ziva to start laughing, bringing an end to whatever ill-conceived prank they'd created.

No one did so Tony dropped the evidence box on McGee's desk before joining his boss in front of the plasma.

"Got more evidence for Abby," he reported, voice barely a whisper when Gibbs narrowed his eyes.

"Ya got something yet, Ziver?"

"Yes, Gibbs," Ziva stood, pointing her remote at the plasma and displaying a DMV picture of a middle-aged blonde. DiNozzo swiveled back toward McGee to see if he'd gleaned any information about the baby. Wide-eyed behind his desk, Tim shrugged cautiously at the senior agent and shook his head.

The smack to the back of Tony's head rattled his brain.

"Thanks boss."

"Sunshine Harrison.

"_Sunshine? _Whoa, somebody's parents were hippies," Tony started. As another smack rearranged his thoughts, he let out a squeak. "Thanks again, boss."

A frustrated exhalation exited Ziva, an uncharacteristic sign of emotion from the regularly reserved assassin. Tony grinned at her, gesturing towards the plasma to allow her to continue.

"Sunshine Harrison, 36, lives in Chevy Chase. She is the co-founder of _Put Earth Before Yourself. _The group raises awareness for the environment. Their message is related to the importance of recycling."

"But I found flyers under Fox's mattress from the same group that say the Navy's slaughter of Marine life must be stopped at any cost," McGee volunteered, pulling a fluorescent pink paper from the evidence box.

"Yes, I am aware from your phone call. However, I have checked with the FBI, Homeland Security as well as my contacts. _Put Earth Before Yourself _is not on any terror watch list."

"DiNozzo, you and Ziva go talk to Sunshine," Gibbs smirked, rocking the baby slowly. "McGee - .'

"Taking the evidence to Abby and accessing Fox's computer, on it, boss."

Hoisting the box from his desk, Tim followed the other two agents to the elevator.

"So, Zee-vah, where'd the baby come from?" Tony asked, buttoning his coat while they waited.

"Well, Tony, when a man and a woman - ." McGee ducked under DiNozzo's attempted head slap.

"Unlike you, Probie, I've had practice. But Ziva, where'd _that _baby come from?"

Tim grinned broadly and DiNozzo held his hand up at the junior agent, a sign that the next one wouldn't miss.

"That is Fox's daughter. We interviewed her mother and she had a freeze-up." The male agents shared a confused look. "You know when someone is upset and they cannot stop crying."

"Meltdown," McGee supplied, wrapping his arms around the box as it weighed heavy in his hands.

"Well, she had a meltdown. We could not leave her alone with the baby. She has no family to contact so she returned with us. We informed Fox's parents so they should be here soon to take temporary custody," Ziva stated.

DiNozzo exhaled slowly, no longer surprised by Mara Sabatini's words.

_A denied lovechild sure did merit a drink to the face and a promise to make the father pay. _

When the elevator doors opened, DiNozzo rushed forward, nearly colliding with an older couple. Red-eyed and the creases of grief etched deeply into their faces, they stepped woodenly out of the car, not noticing Tony leap out of their way. As the man who resembled Levi Fox, looked dully at Ziva, Tony caught the yarmulke covering a bald patch.

"Officer David," Howie Fox spoke slowly, wrapping his arm around his wife's shoulders, "you asked us to come down here. Have you found who killed our son?"

"Not yet, but there has been a development. You should speak with Agent Gibbs."

Both of them nodded silently while a few tears escaped Edith's eyes, stealing traces of mascara down her face. On the sleeve of her shapeless black dress, her fingers pulled at a loose string, absently destroying the stitching.

"You are observing the law, yes? You have not yet buried your son."

"Since you're unsure when you could release Levi's body, we decided to start Shiva when we received the news. We will observe again at his burial and again when Simon returns from Iraq. I think we'll spend the rest of our lives in Shiva," Howie explained, touching the black ribbon over his heart.

"מן השמים תנוחמו," Ziva said quietly.

"Thank you," Edith murmured, reaching over to squeeze one of Ziva's hands.

Disregarding the Tim and Tony, Fox's parents shuffled mutely towards the bullpen, causing the trio to climb into the elevator with a heavy silence resting over them. When the doors slid closed, echoing with a resounding finality, DiNozzo remembered just how much he loathed that part of the job.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**7:01pm – Residence of Sunshine Harrison – Chevy Chase, MD –**

The Charger skidded to a stop in front of the small bungalow, its tire squeals ripping through DiNozzo. Bracing himself against the dashboard, he breathed slowly and begged his hands to stop shaking. He stumbled out of the car, leaning his back against the cool metal of the car door. The adrenaline worked its way out of his veins as Tony's body slowly realized that it was no longer in mortal danger, his pulse slowly returned to normal

_If nothing else, Ziva's driving taught him to appreciate the little things in life, like solid ground. _

Despite her earlier affirmations at improvement, Ziva still drove with no regard to any sign, painted line or stoplight. With her hands, firmly placed at 2 and 10 like she'd been taught, she flew through the downtown DC at break-neck speeds that made DiNozzo regret everything he'd ever eaten. The only time she'd hit the brakes was to allow wheelchair-bound man to cross the street, right before she proceeded to run the red light.

"Keys, Zee-vah," DiNozzo ordered, motioning with his hand. With a frown, she threw them at him.

"I still do not understand why you had a freeze-up," she said, taking the small walkway to the illuminated porch. A cool breeze blew, licking the sweat from Tony's near death experience off his face.

"Meltdown, Ziva. I wouldn't have one if you followed speed limits or traffic signals." Traipsing up the steps to the porch, he tried not to remember the trip over from NCIS. His stomach rolled, leaving the acidic taste of burgers and fries in his mouth.

_McGee's milkshake had been a bad idea…_

"I take the guidelines into consideration," she shrugged, pressing the ringer by the door.

"They're not guidelines, they're _laws!" _he countered, running his hand over his face. Certain that she'd never accept the rules of the road, Tony glanced out at the darkened front yard, the wilting stalks of a summer's garden barely visible. The deadbolt clicked off and the door opened, revealing an older blonde with a pixie haircut. She leaned out, smiling politely when she started to close the door in the agents' faces.

"Sorry, but I'm not interested."

"That's nice, but we're not selling anything." DiNozzo displayed his badge. "Special Agent DiNozzo and Officer David, NCIS. We're here to ask you a few questions. Sunshine Harrison?"

"Yes, that's me. Sorry, I didn't realize. Would you two care to come inside?"

Before he could blink, Tony ended up lounging on an uncomfortable futon with Ziva by his side. Hand around a mug of some sort of herbal tea, DiNozzo studied the repurposed furniture and the forest of houseplants crowded by a sliding glass door. Tibetan prayer flags flapped in the breeze from the open window. Smiling, DiNozzo shook his head.

_Definitely a hippie's home. _

Deciding to sample Sunshine's hospitality, Tony sipped the noxious berry tea. He slid the cup onto the recycled glass coffee table, coughing uncontrollably.

"It is delicious, Tony," Ziva chastised, sipping her own drink slowly.

Eyes watering, DiNozzo shook his head and tried to swallow the berry taste that attempted to escape his stomach. He was still coughing when Sunshine re-entered the room, sliding a plate of misshapen lumps on the green glass coffee table by Tony's mug.

"They're organic, vegan nut bars," she explained, dropping into a set of tires fashioned into a chair. Attempting to be respectful, Ziva stretched for a lumpy mass that DiNozzo wouldn't dare call a cookie.

_They weren't the only organic, vegan nut bars in the room. _

"Look great, but I'm on a diet," Tony stated, patting his suit jacket. Sunshine made a face. "Mind telling us a bit about _Put Earth Before Yourself?" _

"Absolutely," Sunshine started, passion rising in her dark eyes, "I formed it back in college when I discovered a local company was dumping its wastewater into the local reservoir. There was no one to report it to, so I founded PEBY to raise awareness about environmental issues. Someone needed to put pressure on the government for more oversight. Since then, we've expanded into three different countries. Last year, we took in nearly three million dollars in donations. My organization is completely non-profit with every penny being used to further our mission."

"Your mission? What's that exactly?"

"To preserve Earth for future generations by raising awareness about the need to reduce, reuse and recycle," she smiled, rubbing her hands over the arms of her tire chair. "At present, we're most concerned about the amount of recyclable materials still ending up in landfills. PEBY's goal is to limit the amount of waste Americans create by 2030."

Nodding disinterestedly, DiNozzo caught Ziva sliding her nut bar into the pocket of her coat.

"Does your organization have any opinion about the Navy and Marine life?"

As she reached after a nut bar, Sunshine nodded emphatically.

"Well, we believe that there has been unnecessary Marine death due to the Navy's training protocols. By the Navy's own admission, _thousands _of whales are killed every year through the use of SONAR. We need to achieve a balance between national defense and natural preservation. Now, why were you two here again?"

Biting into her mutant cookie, she glanced suspiciously between Ziva and DiNozzo.

"We're investigating a murder and found several brochures with your organization's logo during our investigation," Tony explained, passing a copy of one of the pamphlets to Sunshine. "Would you say that murder is any cost?"

She read the pamphlet, chewing absently while surprise touched her face. She laughed loudly.

"You're kidding right?"

When neither Ziva nor Tony laughed, her features tightened and she vehemently shook her head.

"That's not part of my message," she stated, crossing her arms. "As a devout pacifist, I've modeled my group on Quaker teachings. Plus that's not even our logo."

"What do you mean?"

"My logo is a pair of hands holding a heart-shaped Earth. Some fringe groups use a loose tie to PEBY to pull in the more radical people who attend our rallies. Come to think of it, there was one guy we had to ban from our rally to raise awareness about the dangers of over-fishing."

"Why's that?" DiNozzo asked, reaching into his pocket for a notepad.

Sighing resignedly, she slid her cookie back onto the plate. She played with her long drop earring, glancing at the prayer flags drifting in the evening breeze.

"He offered to put a bomb on a fishing boat so people knew we were serious."

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**Author's Note 2.0 : "מן השמים תנוחמו," - **_"May heaven comfort you." _

_So all you lurkers, what are you guys thinking about this so far? Interesting? Boring? Confusing? Fun? Somewhere in between? _


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer : I own nothing but my typos...and the occasional OC.  
**

**Author's Note **_Thanks to all the favoriters, followers and readers so far. Extra gratitude as always goes to **DS2010, Rogue Tomato, Sprig, Maunzeli, scousemuz1k, moms5thchild, Duxe, mikiss, AgentD.6 **and **a****ngelscatie **for the feedback. I appreciate seeing your thoughts on the last chapter.  
_

_Thoughts and constructive criticism are always welcome. Helps offset the hard work this story took!_

_Finished this up yesterday. We're looking at about 22 chapters in all, plus an epilogue. Still in the process of editing, so twice weekly updates until I get through it. _

_Enjoy the new one. Action picks up in a few chapters. _

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**8:17pm – Forensics Lab – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –**

With the bone-jarring thumps of Abby's most recent CD purchase pulsating through the lab, McGee's fingers tapped furiously on the keyboard of Fox's laptop. Even though the initial access had been extremely easy, meandering through the nearly full hard drive was taking Tim more time than he knew it should. When he uncovered a hidden partition of pornographic videos, he dramatically rolled his eyes.

_Porn. Why was there always porn on their suspects' computers? _

_He'd let Abby finish that video review later. _

An explosion thudded through the lab, dropping McGee to the floor. Realizing it was only part of the song, his cheeks flushed and he righted himself, glad to see no one had witnessed the moment of blatant stupidity. Tim turned his attention back to the computer, wondering whether Abby would return anytime soon. When he'd arrived hours earlier and mentioned the baby in the bullpen, she'd squealed with excitement, sprinting out of the lab before he could ask how Gibbs knew his way around the infant. Even though he'd enjoyed the quiet while he sifted through the contents of Fox's hard drive, he did miss her company while he worked.

A chainsaw rang out, disrupting McGee's thoughts again. Grabbing the remote, he smashed a few buttons and a mellow jazz tune wafted through the air. Ecstatic to see that Abby still hadn't found the secret section of the computer with his music files, Tim smiled, finally able to settle back into his work.

_It couldn't be called music without a walking bass line. _

By accident, Tim clicked on one of the erotic videos. Before he had a chance to minimize the window, an image of a Navy ship appeared on the screen. Debating about whether to watch or move on, McGee's interest piqued at the picture of the destroyer.

Tim could recognize the type of ship anywhere, having spent many days in his youth watching his father's vessel drift away and float home.

The grainy, audio-less video of the ship's interior walkways played out, camera jolting as it swung to catch the numbers of the levels. It almost appeared that the videographer had created a complete tour of the ship's internal aspects, leading up to the control deck. Perplexed, McGee chose another video centering on the ship's weapon's consoles. There was no sound as the jarring camera zoomed in on specific switches and buttons. Tim quickly screened a few more videos, jotting down their contents until his motion sickness left him grasping the lab bench. He reviewed his notes, realized the files he'd viewed focused on a destroyer's tactical equipment and its support structures.

_"Oh boy."_

Figuring he'd let Abby finish the rest of the video files, he moved into Fox's internet browser. On primary inspection, its history only contained links to recent shopping sites, web-based movies and a page with advice on combating male pattern baldness. But when McGee restored a number of recently deleted websites, his mouth gaped. Over the course of several months, Fox had been sifting through the internet to find information on the Navy's use of SONAR and its impact on whale survival.

Originally starting out with scientific and environmental sources, Fox's choice in websites took a decidedly violent turn in recent weeks. Recreating the most recently deleted page, McGee's eyes widened at the picture of a sperm whale, lying dead on a beach, its magnificent form insubstantial under the pristine blue sky. Underneath the gruesome image, the words "_Courtesy of America's Navy"_appeared in blood red font.

Before he could determine the webmaster's information, a set of heavy footsteps marched into the lab.

"Whaddya got, Ab - ? Gibbs asked, stopping short when McGee smiled back nervously.

"Boss, uh, hi, Abby went to see the baby," he explained, gesturing at the computer. With an indifferent shrug, Gibbs waved the CafPow at Tim, its ice sloshing against the side of the cup.

_Doesn't the boss know that only works on Abby? _

Impatiently, Gibbs eyed the computer and sloshed the ice at him again.

_Apparently not. _

McGee sighed.

"Managed to get into Fox's computer, boss," Tim stated, bringing up the mislabeled porn collection. "All the videos I've watched show a destroyer's tactical equipment, internal tour of the ship and the control deck. I wouldn't be surprised if all these videos show _all _the parts of the ship. But I'm not sure why. Maybe he's planning - ?"

"Target," Gibbs growled, obviously trying to keep McGee on point.

_Tim hadn't even started on a tangent. _

"Got through the most recent web searches," Tim continued, going back to the image of the dead whale. "Several months ago, Fox became interested in SONAR and its effect on Marine mammals. Over the past few weeks, he's been starting to get into groups that want to stop it."

Glaring at the website's imagery, Gibbs thrust the CafPow into McGee's hand.

"Find me that - ," he barked, jabbing his finger at the screen.

"Webmaster, boss," McGee supplied, dropping his eyes to the keyboard when Gibbs' angry stare locked on him next. "On it."

When Gibbs stormed out of the lab, Tim rolled over to the main computer to ping the website's IP address. Pulling a quick sip of his reward, he grinned at the fake fruit flavors sliding over his tongue.

_Abby was right. It did taste better when you earned it. _

Absently chewing on the straw, McGee decided to hack Fox's e-mail while he waited for the computer to locate the IP address' physical location. When he noticed the e-mail address still logged into the internet browser, he dropped the CafPow to the lab bench. Its contents splashed all over the floor, narrowly missing his shoes.

_WhosDaNewman (Andrew Newman's e-mail address, since it keeps getting deleted)_

Tim bolted after Gibbs to inform him that he'd accidentally taken the roommate, Andrew Newman's computer.

By the time he hit the lab door, he didn't see the other monitor flash a hit off his IP search.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**10:42pm – Bullpen – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –**

When the shriek of a straw seeking the last drop in an already empty cup ripped through the bullpen, DiNozzo's head popped off his desk, whipping around to determine the offender. Distracted by something on his monitor, McGee sucked on his straw again, stopping when he noticed two sets of angry eyes on him. With a sheepish grin, he dropped the empty cup into his trashcan.

Rolling her eyes at the interruption, Ziva turned back to her work. From the methodical typing and quiet clicks, she sounded like she was making progress in her lead.

Barely awake again, Tony tried to focus his hazy vision on the computer screen in front of him. When the words blended together, he closed his eyes and sighed quietly. A lost night's sleep and that contact high in Norfolk left the senior agent officially exhausted. Rubbing the heels of his hands against his eyes, his head dipped dangerously near his desk again.

Tony yawned aggressively, catching the scent of stale cheeseburger that he'd been using as a pillow. His stomach turned. Frowning at the unopened post-interview food, he slid the wrapped sandwich to the furthermost corner. After his feast on the road trip back from Norfolk, DiNozzo didn't want to consume another burger for a very, very long time.

He'd only stopped for burgers and milkshakes again to appease McGee. Not realizing he'd swiped the sandwich from Tim's favorite restaurant in Norfolk, Tony had felt a bit guilty when he learned about the mistake. While the replacement hadn't been the same, the junior agent had seemed appreciative. Sighing quietly, Tony realized that his mental capacity had shrunk considerably, no longer able to handle anything more complicated than food. He rested his head on his desk, letting himself drift away again.

"Think ya earned sleep, DiNozzo?" Gibbs growled, marching into the bullpen.

"Not yet, boss," Tony yelped, lifting his head. Blinking slowly, DiNozzo watched Gibbs drop into his desk chair and glare him down.

_Just how long had he been asleep?_

"Whaddya got?"

Before Tony had a chance to offer Gibbs a cheeseburger, McGee hopped from his chair, pointing his remote at the plasma. After a few clicks on his computer, the junior agent transferred the website with the dead whale and the Navy. Gibbs' jaw visibly tensed at the website's return.

"Well as you already know, boss, the computer we took actually belonged to Andrew Newman. I managed to find the location of the IP address on that website. When I first tried pinging it, I couldn't get a hit because," McGee explained, gesturing towards the screen with his hands, "the home computer has been disconnected from the internet. I had to contact the WHOIS data - ." When Gibbs' glare found the junior agent instead, he coughed nervously. "Y-y-yeah, it's registered to a Maxwell Lewis, out of Truxton Circle. Andrew Newman had numerous coded e-mails exchanged with Lewis. Abby's still trying to piece them together."

When Ziva snapped her fingers at McGee, he tossed her the remote. She put up a DMV picture of a blonde man and a picture of the same man, visibly younger, in dress whites. Hard featured and angry eyes, Tony was surprised the man managed to look dangerous in something as mundane as his driver license picture.

"Maxwell Lewis, thirty-six, is a former petty officer, third class. He was dishonorably discharged from the Navy in 2004 for striking his executive officer during a sea tour. For the past few years, he has no documented income. This indicates that he likely works odd jobs for cash."

"And - ?" Gibbs growled, glaring between the two agents. DiNozzo watched McGee and Ziva share a tense glance, he realized they'd presented their information out of order. Resting his head on his hand, Tony pointed at the plasma and McGee registered a few strokes of his keyboard. The picture of the dead whale reappeared on the screen.

Gibbs' jaw tensed again.

"Website claims to belong to a group known as the _Clear Water Crusaders_," Tony nodded, dozing off for a second. "Loosely connected to _Put Earth Before Yourself_. Based on their website, they seem to pull in the more radical members who get tired of _PEBY's_ 'soft stance on the genocide of Marine life.' From their websites, they seem interested in targeting the Navy for its use of SONAR in training exercises due to the impact on whales. Some of the headcases in _PEBY's_ internet forums are calling for bombs to be placed on Navy ships."

Raising his eyebrows, Gibbs moved in front of the plasma. He crossed his arms, questioning glance at Ziva.

"Gibbs, there is no link to any known terrorist organization."

With a hand on the back of his neck, Gibbs stared at the plasma. DiNozzo fell asleep again, face planting into his desk while McGee typed frantically.

"There's been no activity on any of Lewis' credit cards for months, boss. His cell phone's turned off and I can't locate the IP address on his computer. Last known address doesn't exist. He's - ," the junior agent stopped gravely, pressing his lips together.

"Off the reservation," Ziva offered, smiling at her attempted euphemism. Muffling a snort into his hand, DiNozzo shook his head.

"Grid, Zee-vah," he corrected, half-asleep. When the drool ran down his palm, Tony blinked himself awake. Back still to the agents, Gibbs studied the plasma.

"McGee?"

"Putting out a BOLO on Lewis," Tim nodded, reaching for his phone.

"Ziva?"

"I will check again with my contacts about Maxwell Lewis by name," she stated, fiddling with her computer. "Perhaps I shall find the grid."

"DiNozzo - ?" Head on his desk, Tony had started to snore quietly. _"G-damn it, DiNozzo! You better get Fox's roommate and his computer up here by 0800." _


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer : I own nothing but my typos...and the occasional OC.  
**

**Author's Note ****:**_ Thanks to all who's favorited, followed and read this story so far. As always, extra thanks to **Acrwdof1, scousemuz1k, diana teo, DS2010, AgentD.6, jmsings, and angelscatie **for taking time to leave some thoughts. Really nice to read what you guys are thinking as we progress.  
_

_I'm making a few corrections to one of the previous chapters based on some information I received from **Acrwdof1, **the CO for Fox would have likely been a Commander and the XO, a Lieutenant Commander. Many thanks on that. _

_It was also brought to my attention that Tony's contact high would have gotten pulled off the case until he felt better. Regs state that LEOs cannot operate under the influence of any substance, lest their evidence be deemed tainted and potentially unusable. That is true and it is a deviation from SOP. Needed a splash of humor in there to keep the story flowing a bit. There will be some upcoming deviations from SOP, just to streamline the story a bit and make it center on the NCIS characters. Hopefully you'll bare with me.  
_

_We meet my OC in this chapter. _

_Enjoy the newest chapter.  
_

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**11:30pm – Forensics Lab – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –**

Riding the elevator to Abby's lab, Gibbs removed the picture of the Fox brothers from his pocket. Caught in a moment of revelry, both boys faced the camera, grinning mischievously while Levi pointed towards something out of the frame. The team leader slid the picture away, wondering how many similar images of Kelly still haunted his home. Swigging his coffee, he tried to chase the memories of his little girl from his head. His watch weighed heavy on his wrist, pulling a pained smile to his lips.

_No matter how far he got, no matter how hard he tried to forget, she was always there. _

When the doors opened on Abby's floor, Gibbs shook his head, striding towards the forensics lab. Wafting through the hallway, a bone-jarring melody beat his ear drums. If he could count on one person to work through the night, it would always be the forensic scientist. Having just sent his team of mere mortals home for the night, he'd grown to appreciate her nocturnal tendencies and uncompromising work ethic.

"Abby."

Deep in thought, Abby swayed her hips while she typed at her computer. On one screen, a series of simulations scrolled past while a set of open word documents waited for attention on another.

"Abby!" Gibbs yelled, catching her when she fell into him.

"Gibbs," she cried, stretching to turn down the volume. "I should have known you come down. Even though I didn't sent out the Gibbs signal yet, I was really close. Like really, really close. But if you always know when I have something, do I even need a - ?"

"Whaddya got?"

She raised her eyebrows, glancing between his empty hand and his coffee.

"Left it for ya earlier. Already gone?"

_Those damn CafPows didn't go bad. It should still be drinkable, if it could be considered consumable to begin with. _

He cringed, remembering his sample of the beverage.

"McGee drank it, well, most of it," Abby explained, pouting when Gibbs simply shrugged. "I couldn't find anything with the bullet Duckman sent up. It's a mess. Too busted for ballistics. So the only thing I can tell you about the gun is that it's a 0.380 ACP. Most common weapons are a Colt Mustang, Sig Sauer P238 or a Beretta 0.380. But - ."

"Could be any gun," Gibbs growled, his features darkening.

"Well, when you say it like that," Abby started, pointing towards another computer screen. "Get me the gun and I'll get you a match. Ran a search of all known bombings using C4 for the last 5 years. No matches to the recipe which means someone's changing their formula or it's a new bombmaker."

"All bad news?"

"Only when you don't bring a CafPow," she grinned, shaking her pigtails as she brought up a simulation on the computer screen. "Splatter indicates that she shooter was in the passenger seat when Fox was shot. Also, I determined the black substance under Fox's fingernails to be black leather. Based off the chemicals present in the sample, it's from a coat."

Gibbs turned to leave, struggling to lift his foot from the ground. Feeling like he'd been adhered to flypaper, he dropped his eyes to the floor to see a large red stain surrounding the area between the lab table and bench. When he managed to lift his foot, a loud ripping noise echoed through the lab. Carefully, he lunged for the unstained ground.

_Was she starting to put out traps? _

Flipping her pigtail over her shoulder, she shook her head.

"McGee spilled a little CafPow earlier. If you try to clean it up with water, it only gets stickier so I have to mix the appropriate enzyme when I get some time. It's a good thing it kept you here, since I'm not done yet. Still working on the videos on the laptop. No one's going to be winning the Oscars anytime soon, but they're definitely from the interior of Navy ships."

Eying the blood-red stain on the lab's floor, Gibbs raised his eyebrows and sipped his coffee.

"I'm getting through the roommate's e-mails. Just like McGee thought, they're definitely in some sort of code. I haven't been able to crack it yet," she nodded, bringing up an e-mail, "but as far as I can tell, they've set up a meeting for tomorrow at 3."

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**Sunday, October 1, 2006 – 7:59am – Interrogation – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –**

Crossing his arms, DiNozzo studied the taciturn suspect seated at the interrogation table. With his neatly styled coif and professionally tailored Dolce and Gabbana suit, Andrew Newman no longer resembled the stoner that Tony had interrogated the previous day.

He stared at the roommate's unmoving figure, shaking his head at how a suit and some hair product could be responsible for the almost miraculous transformation. When he'd checked Newman's background before his arrival, DiNozzo had been shocked to discover the man graduated summa cum laude from Yale with a degree in computer science. An academic background that rivaled McGee's and a touch of luck put Newman on the fast track to senior management at a Norfolk-based IT firm.

Newman sighed agitatedly, checking his wristwatch. Its face glinted in the dim fluorescent light and DiNozzo nodded approvingly, realizing it was probably time to replace his own.

_Maybe he should ask Newman where he got it. _

The door to the viewing room creaked open, distracting Tony from the suspect. Smiling self-consciously as she entered, the case agent from Norfolk waved tensely. Returning the gesture, DiNozzo let his eyes linger a bit too long over her zaftig figure.

"So has he said anything yet?" Regina Zavoral asked, tightening her long, blonde ponytail.

"Not yet. He say anything in the car?"

She shook her head, checking the recording equipment in corner. As silence enveloped the pair, DiNozzo studied Zavoral's generous assets out of the corner of his eye. When he'd first spoken to her on the phone to coordinate their journey from Norfolk, Tony could tell by the sound of her voice that she'd be attractive. But when a knockout blonde showed up with Newman at the crack of dawn, he'd been floored.

"You really don't mind that I watch, right?" she questioned, blush creeping into her pale cheeks.

"Of course not," DiNozzo grinned, gesturing towards interrogation with his head.

"That's great," she beamed. "I've heard so much about Agent Gibbs' interrogation techniques that I can't believe I'm about to see it in person._ I've heard so much about him_."

"Well, that'd be my boss. Always mysterious, always right, always - ."

_"Is anybody ever going to come talk to me?" _Newman whined, glaring at the glass partition.

"On his own time," DiNozzo shrugged, pausing as he grasped for a conversational topic. "So what exactly have you heard about Gibbs?"

"Well, he's been a bit of a legend around the case agents at Norfolk. Ever since he got Tim McGee promoted to full-time - ." Regina bit her lip at Tony's slack-jawed stare. "What?"

_Good thing McCinderella never lost that glass keyboard. He might turn back into a case agent…_

"Wait, you knew McGee?"

"Yeah, not for very long though. We used to grab lunch sometimes with the other case agents. Whenever he came back from working a case with Gibbs, he always had such great stories about his methods and the way he interacted with his team. Even though Tim's been out here for a few years now, we still keep in touch."

Rubbing the back of his head, DiNozzo wondered just what Tim had told the case agents that would cause Zavoral to act like a probie about to witness history. Just as he opened his mouth to ask about McGee's tall tales, the interrogation door opened and Gibbs lazily strolled in, file in hand.

When Tony glanced back to Regina, she clasped her hands to her chest. With her face illuminated by the dim light drifting in from interrogation, Zavoral resembled a child waiting up to catch a glimpse of Santa Claus. She grinned at him excitedly. Allowing her to savor the moment, he smiled until she turned her attention back to the suspect.

While his boss sank into the interrogation chair, DiNozzo exasperatedly rolled his eyes.

_Damn probies and their - . _

_Wait, she wasn't even a probie. In the NCIS pecking order, probies outranked case agents. _

_Reg actually aspired to be a probie. _

_Oh G-d.  
_

"Just who are you?" Newman asked, narrowing his eyes at Gibbs. Unhurriedly, the team leader pulled on his reading glasses and leafed through the file.

"Agent Gibbs," he said slowly, placing a picture of Levi Fox's crumpled body onto the table. Newman's eyes stopped on the image, he rubbed his chin. Pushing the picture away, he looked Gibbs in the eye and shook his head.

"This wasn't - ," he began before swallowing his words. As he clenched his jaw, he shook his head again. "Why am I here, Agent Gibbs? I don't appreciate being brought here in the middle of the night with no explanation. I already spoke with two agents yesterday. I let them search my house. They - ."

"Where were you on Thursday night?" Gibbs interjected, glaring over his glasses.

"At work until Friday morning. There was a software crash at one of the companies my firm manages. We were there almost all night trying to replace the corrupted update via remote access. Why?"

Nodding slowly, Gibbs took a deliberate sip of his coffee. As Newman stared at the picture of his roommate's corpse, he pressed his lips together. He lifted his eyes, letting them darted around the room before fixing on the glass partition that hid DiNozzo and Zavoral. The look on his face told Tony that Andrew just realized he was being interrogated.

"You own a gun?"

Flabbergasted, Newman looked helplessly at Gibbs.

"N-n-n-no, I don't believe in them. Why? Do you think I killed Levi?"

Mutely, Gibbs slid his reading glasses back into his pocket. Replacing the picture in his file folder, Gibbs grabbed his coffee cup and stalked out of the room. Even after he'd retreated, Zavoral continued to stare at the crestfallen suspect.

_"That's it? _Where was the fist pounding? And the yelling? Isn't there supposed to be yelling?_"_

Disappointment apparent on her face, her brow furrowed as she glanced to Tony. Also surprised by Gibbs' abbreviated interrogation, DiNozzo waved for her to follow back to the bullpen. She fell in step with Tony, watching him shrug absently.

"It's more of a process."

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**8:51am – Bullpen – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –**

Finally in possession of the correct laptop, McGee hunched over his desk, typing frantically. Scattered across the bullpen, four agents intently watched him work. As he meticulously restored the victim's internet searches and word processing documents, Tim desperately tried to ignore the pounding in his chest.

_No pressure, no pressure, no pressure. They weren't staring at him. They were just - ._

_"Today, McGee," _Gibbs growled, waiting impatiently in front of the plasma.

"Almost there, boss," he promised, knowing the importance of completing his task swiftly and correctly. As he paused for the computer to finalize the restoration, McGee glanced up at Regina.

Grinning broadly as she perched herself on Tony's desk, she waved enthusiastically. With a distracted half-nod, Tim acknowledged her presence before an e-mail alert on his computer captivated his attention. Tossing the remote to Tony, McGee transferred Abby's findings to the screen. While McGee continued to work furiously, DiNozzo rose from his desk chair. Before joining the team leader in front of the plasma, Tony smoothed his suit jacket and smiled lasciviously at Zavoral. While Ziva rolled her eyes, a head smack rattled Tony's brain before he could speak.

"Thanks boss," he nodded, trying to ignore Regina and Ziva's snickers. "Seems like Abby cracked a few pieces of the Newman's coded e-mails, but those decoded bits look like a new code. Finding the right watches? Unstable stilts? Drum lines and football? Boss, this still doesn't make any sense. Could we - ?"

Gibbs' piercing glare ended Tony's protests.

The team pondered the case for several long minutes with only the sound of McGee's frenetic keyboard taps breaking the silence. In front of the plasma, DiNozzo studied Gibbs' contemplative reflection before mirroring his boss' cross-armed stance. Leaned against Tony's desk, Regina anxiously glanced between the four other agents. Ziva worked swiftly as she ran down a lead of her own.

As he recovered a recently deleted word processing document, Tim watched it materialize on his screen. Each line loading in rapid succession, Tim raised his eyebrows at the meticulous notations with corresponding time-stamps. Briefly scanning the file, he noticed all the entries involved phone numbers and information presumably about the the laptop aside, McGee ran a quick search of the phone number in the document title. Within seconds, he got a hit on Andrew Newman's phone. Just as he started to share his information, Ziva popped out of her chair.

With a nod, DiNozzo tossed her the remote. A set of financial records appeared on the plasma.

"Gibbs," Ziva stated. "Andrew Newman transferred fifty thousand dollars to an off-shore bank account three days ago. The transaction just posted."

"Trace it," Gibbs barked.

She shrugged helplessly, causing the team leader to swivel and stare down McGee. With his heart in his throat, the junior agent motioned to the laptop.

"Boss, I - ," he hiccupped, pausing when Gibbs glared at him. Nodding obediently, he pushed the laptop aside and ran a trace on the account. "The account is registered to _The Sun Ray Foundation, _based out of the Caymans."

"It appears to be a charitable organization that supports marine life rehabilitation," Ziva stated, attention on her computer screen.

"_Marine life rehabilitation?" _DiNozzo repeated, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, like recuperating beached whales or animals that survive an oil spill," Zavoral interjected. When four sets of eyes landed on her, her cheeks flushed. "My older brother's a marine biologist at SeaWorld. He did an internship at a place in Sydney that specialized in helping sealife recover after natural disasters."

With an amused smirk, Gibbs nodded. Cheeks blazing a deeper shade of crimson, Regina sank back against DiNozzo's desk and breathed deeply.

"Boss, found something on the laptop," McGee volunteered, transferring the word processing document to the plasma. "Looks like it's a record that Fox kept involving his roommate's phone calls with various numbers. Not sure how he knows the topics of conversation, but they appear to be in a similar code to the e-mails. It'll take me a little time to cross-reference the numbers."

Turning his back to Tim, Gibbs stared intently at the screen. Since Gibbs was even quieter than usual, McGee wondered whether the newest fragments of information were unsatisfactory. Frowning deeply, the junior agent and Ziva began to cross reference the numbers.

DiNozzo leaned to whisper something to his boss. With the tension in the senior agent's usually relaxed motions, McGee's stomach flipped.

"Time pieces? C4? Unstable stilts? Boss, these guys aren't - ?" Tony asked, voice in disbelief.

"Making a bomb? Yeah," Gibbs nodded, grimly.

Suddenly pale, Zavoral hiccuped into the back of her hand. Her body trembled, sweat beading to her forehead. When she sprinted out of the bullpen towards the bathroom, all four agents watched the tan suit vanish from Tony's desk. As their eyes met, DiNozzo shrugged at Ziva.

"And Levi Fox?" Tim asked, glancing towards his superiors.

Staring darkly at the plasma, DiNozzo shook his head.

"Looks like he found out about it."


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer : I own nothing but my typos.  
**

**Author's Note ****: **_Thanks to all the readers, favoriters and followers so far. As always, extra thanks to **AgentD.6, Maunzeli, Scat210, **and **angelscatie **for taking time to leave their thoughts. Your time and opinions are truly appreciated. Thank you. __  
_

_If anyone who reads this is waiting for the next chapter to **Limbo, **it's written and should be up this weekend. It just needs a few tweaks.  
_

_Starting to get into the more exciting part of the story. Action starts next chapter. _

_Enjoy. _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**10:49am – Viewing Room – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –**

Hand on the back of his head, DiNozzo tried hard not to laugh at the case agent that continued to unravel before his eyes. Barely held upright by the wall, Zavoral sprawled her legs out on the viewing room floor. The strident sound of her breath that filled McGee's now-empty lunch bag filled the room. While she desperately tried to control her hyperventilations, Tony smirked and shook his head.

_Well, Regina had said she wanted to experience a case with the team. _

Even thought she swore that she felt fine, the pallor of her face and the splotches of emesis on her suit jacket would inform even a novice investigator that she was a terrible liar.

"Are you okay, Reg?" DiNozzo asked again. Glancing up at him with eyes outlined in streaky mascara, she smiled tightly.

"Fine, I'm fine. The news about a bomb caught me off-guard," she stated, taking his Tony's extended hand.

Once on her feet, she steadied herself against the glass.

"You sure you still want to watch?" Tony nodded, gesturing towards Gibbs as he marched into interrogation.

"Might as well, I don't have much else to do while I wait for Gibbs to be done with Newman. Anyway, I already signed the viewer's register. I think I have to stay, don't I?"

When Tony shrugged at his uncertainty of the NCIS bylaws, Zavoral hugged her arms to herself. Out of the corner of his eye, DiNozzo watched Gibbs drop into his chair. Recognizing his boss' favorite game of 'stare down the suspect until they crack,' Tony realized he had a few minutes to offer the fledgling agent some much needed advice.

"You don't catch many big cases, do you, Reg?"

She shook her head slowly, staring through the glass at the team leader.

"Not really. I mostly do tactical analysis for the field agents stationed out of Norfolk. But we don't see much down there. Vandalism, AWOL ensigns, theft," she nodded, voice quiet. In the dim light, her pale face resembled a specter's. "Caught a rape case last year, but this is different. Th-th-that man rode in the car with me. He murdered someone and he rode in the car _with me. _He could have done the same to me."

Raking her fingers through her hair, she bit her lip. Exhaling slowly, Zavoral finally looked over at Tony and he shook his head.

"Newman wouldn't because he didn't kill Fox."

"Why do you say that?"

Without another word, DiNozzo gestured towards interrogation. Facing the viewing room, Newman's face tightened in agitation as he slammed his hands on the table.

_"For the love of G-d, just say something," _he roared, surprise at his outburst gracing his face. Settling back into his chair, he tried again. "I didn't kill Levi."

"I know," Gibbs said flatly, sipping from his coffee and reaching for his file.

_"I swear I didn't kill - ._ Wait, what?" Brow furrowed, Newman loosened his tie.

"You didn't kill Fox. Confirmed your alibi," the team leader nodded.

When Zavoral glanced questioningly at DiNozzo, he shook his head and pointed back at the unfolding scene.

"Why didn't you just say so? I guess that pretty agent can drive me home. I'd say thanks for the hospitality, but - ."

Rising from his seat, Newman started for the door.

"We're not done here, sit down," Gibbs growled, pointing towards the vacant chair.

Newman crept back into his seat, while the team leader deliberately swigged his coffee.

"If this isn't about Levi, then what's it about?"

_"_Maxwell Lewis," the team leader stated, more question than statement. Recollection blasted onto Newman's face as he pushed his expression into an unreadable one.

"Who? I don't know anyone by that name," Newman shrugged.

Narrowing his eyes, Gibbs retrieved several documents from his file, individual e-mails from Newman's computer that dictated his correspondence with Lewis. He slammed them down on the table, each thud echoed throughout interrogation, every one sealing Andy's fate.

"I know about the bomb," Gibbs stated.

With a nervous laugh, Andy wiped away the rivets of perspiration that blossomed on his forehead.

"The - ."

"You wired fifty thousand dollars to a shell charity for the Clear Water Crusaders."

Licking his lips, Newman leaned forward onto the table.

"Once my people crack this code," Gibbs leveled his threat, knuckles rapping on each document. "Any leverage you have is _gone_."

"I think it's time for me to speak with a lawyer," Newman responded flatly.

_Time for Tony to break rule twenty-two. Hopefully, it worked like he'd planned._

Seizing the opportunity, DiNozzo hustled out of the viewing room. He heard Zavoral call after him. When he pounded on the door to interrogation, he tensed, knowing Gibbs would probably kick his ass later. But if his plan was successful, they might have a workable lead since precious minutes were ticking away.

On the second knock, Gibbs' angry face appeared in the door. As he glared at DiNozzo, Newman nervously glanced at the pair.

"Boss, we - ," DiNozzo started, catching the desperation in Newman's eyes.

_"Wait, wait! If I tell you what I know, you'll still get me a deal right?"_

With a wry smile, Gibbs winked at DiNozzo and retreated back into interrogation. When DiNozzo wandered back into the viewing room, he grinned broadly at Zavoral's slack-jawed stare.

"What's the target?"

"I don't know." Gibbs rose and the suspect slammed his hands on the table. _"I swear that I don't know the target. _If I knew, I would tell you. _But I don't know_. I met Lewis in a chat room on the _Put Earth Before Yourself _message boards a few months ago. We started talking about the unnecessary destruction of the environment. I always hated how wasteful we are as Americans, but never knew what to do other than recycling, protesting and donating money to charity. Well, Lewis said he knew a way to get our point across but he needed funding. I was on the fence about it at first. But after he showed me just how much devastation that Navy has caused, I knew we had to do something."

Pausing, Newman pressed his lips together.

"So you just decided to build a bomb?"

"Look, Agent Gibbs, I didn't want to at first, but do you know how many whales die every year from SONAR use in subs and ships?" The team leader stared at Newman blankly. "By the Navy's own admission, _thousands _of whales and dolphins are needlessly slaughtered_." _

"What about Fox?"

"I don't know anything about Levi," Newman pressed his hands to his face. "I didn't find out he was dead until those agents showed up at my house yesterday."

Gibbs nodded, seeming to accept Newman at his word.

"What do you know about the bomb?"

"Nothing. Lewis was supposed to put together a small one, just to show the Navy that we won't accept any further deaths without cause. Those e-mails are his progress in procuring the pieces. Once he found them all, I wired him the money to make the purchases. When it was done, we were supposed to meet here in DC to finalize the plans. But - ."

Picking up one of the printouts, Newman exhaled loudly. As he placed his coffee on the table, Gibbs glared at the suspect.

"But what?" When Newman closed his eyes, Gibbs slammed his hand on the table. _"But what, Newman!?" _

"This is the first time I've seen this e-mail," Newman said quietly, pushing a piece of paper towards Gibbs. "He's letting me know that he's already chosen a target."

Blue eyes burning, the team leader gathered his papers.

"I swear I don't know what it is. No one is supposed to get hurt. I just wanted someone to take us seriously. No one listens -," Newman continued, oblivious to Gibbs' disinterest.

"Where's the meet?"

Pressing his lips together, Newman stared blankly at his folded hands. Gibbs slammed both fists on the table, leaning forward into Andrew's face. Wide-eyed, the suspect met Gibbs' glare.

_"Fox knew about you and this guy. Now he's dead, that's your fault. You're already an accomplice to murder, you wanna add terrorism to the list?" _

"Columbia Self Storage, unit #1802, 3pm."

Gibbs silently stormed out of interrogation, slamming the door behind him. As he exhaled slowly, DiNozzo raised his eyebrows at the escalation of the situation. With their worst fears confirmed, Tony knew that their work had only just begun.

Zavoral continued to stare at the sobbing suspect in amazement.

"That was - . Oh my G-d, that was – ," she paused. DiNozzo held his breath, hoping she wouldn't feel the need to report Gibbs' unorthodox interrogation techniques to the director. _"That was more awesome than any of Tim's stories."_

Tony grinned broadly.

"That's how we do it in DC."

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**12:18pm – Bullpen – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –**

While he ran a search on another number from Fox's list, McGee pressed his lips together, trying to make sense of notes about the phone calls. Unable to figure anything out, he minimized the screen and checked the progress on his intrusion attempt on the _Sun Ray Foundation's _bank account. His program was still in the process of overloading the bank's server to grant him access. As he watched the numbers race across the screen, he rested his hand on his chin. Across the bullpen, Ziva spoke into her phone in hushed whispers, the words in her native guttural tongue. With her scarcely audible tones and different language, Tim didn't need to understand she'd received bad news. Features tense, she smoothed her ponytail like she always did when she tried to calm her anger.

_After all those times he'd stopped her from killing Tony, McGee had learned her tells. _

Slamming her phone down on its receiver, she growled something in Hebrew that sounded particularly nasty. Before McGee could question her, his computer flashed, closing out his phone number search program. The blinking results indicated another disconnected phone.

Tim dropped his head to his hands.

_Each and every one of the fifteen numbers had been disconnected burner cells. He was completely empty, which could only mean - ._

Over the partition behind Ziva's desk, McGee noticed a bobbing grey head with an unfortunate haircut. Cringing, McGee scrambled to find some tidbit of information that would appease his boss' perpetual wrath.

Slamming her phone back onto the receiver for good measure, Ziva muttered another curse in Hebrew.

With one foot in the bullpen, Gibbs' sight set on his junior agent.

"Whaddya got, McGee?"

"Uh, boss - ," Tim started, feeling the blush creep onto his cheek.

Fingers flying over the keyboard, he'd just managed to access the bank account of _The Sun Ray Foundation._ As he looked for the remote to transfer his findings to the plasma, he noticed Ziva already pointed it at the screen.

_Saved by the assassin. _

"Gibbs, my information cannot wait," Ziva stated, rising from her chair.

Obediently, she pointed the remote at the plasma and waited for Gibbs' approval before proceeding. When he gestured his head to the plasma, she brought a picture of a middle-aged blonde man.

Settling in front of the plasma, Gibbs crossed his arms while Tony slid next to him.

"James Abram," she explained, smoothing her ponytail as she exhaled. "According to my contacts, he is the only person in the general area who has recently attempted to purchase the necessary components to fabricate an incendiary device."

"Only person in the general area? Wait, there's more of these guys?!" Zavoral repeated, raising her voice several octaves.

The entire team glanced towards her position by Tony's desk. It was obvious they'd forgotten she was even present. When Gibbs shrugged at her wide-eyed concern, the team turned back to their discussion about Abram and Ziva's contact.

Blocking out the team's animated dialogue, McGee sifted through the lists of the transactions in _The Sun Ray Foundation's _multi-million dollar account. When he noticed a large deposit that lasted only a few minutes before being transferred out, he started a trace on the money's origin and destination. The search on the money's origination hit first, flashing across his screen. A quick cross-reference confirmed that the bank account belonged to Andrew Newman. Pressing his lips together, McGee noticed that it had only been deposited into the account a few minutes prior to its transfer to _The Sun Ray Foundation. _

A quick check on its first place showed that it came from the back account of James Abram.

"You got something or not, McGee?" Gibbs growled, swiveling from his spot in front of the plasma. With a nod, Tim registered a few clicks of his mouse, bringing up bank account list on the screen.

_"The Sun Ray Foundation's _financials. Got a big deposit from James Abram via Andrew Newman's account into the account that lasted about four minutes before transferring to another."

"So it appears Abram is building out Newman to finance the bomb?" Ziva suggested.

"Setting up," McGee corrected, nodding slowly. "Looks like it."

"Where'd the money go?" Gibbs growled.

Glancing back at his monitor, McGee watched search ping in Mongolia before moving on.

"Don't know yet, boss," Tim shrugged, pointing at his screen. "I should be able to find it, but it'll take a while."

When his boss nodded slowly, McGee typed frenetically as he started searched into other deposits into the account.

"You got anything, DiNozzo?" Gibbs growled, turning towards his shadow at the plasma screen. Uncharacteristically quiet for the information session, Tony pulled his angry eyes off the images.

"Hey, McGoo?"

Concentration shattered, Tim's face popped off his computer screen. Completely oblivious, he glanced between Gibbs and Tony.

"Wh-what?"

"You think you can find out where the money headed after it went to Newman, McBloodhound?" DiNozzo asked, looking at Gibbs. Instantly suspicious, Tim raised his eyebrow at the senior agent.

"Only if you leave me alone," McGee groused, turning back to his computer.

As the trace touched a point in Sydney, it hopped to another part of the globe. Tim sighed quietly as Tony rocked on his heels, dramatically pointing at Ziva.

"And your contact, Zee-vah, will they testify about Abram's purchase of the material to make the bomb?" Picking up her letter opener, she slid it over her fingernail. Tony smiled nervously, loosening his tie as she closed one eye to check her aim. "I think that's a no, boss. You know what this means, right?"

When Tim's trace flashed a dead end in Paris, he rubbed the heels of his hands over his face.

"McGee?" Gibbs growled, glaring over his shoulder.

"Lost the trace on the money, boss. Whoever we're dealing with is good," McGee admitted, choosing a different transaction at random and running its destination. Within seconds, he got a hit. "This transaction went to a group in Tibet that calls for succession through violence."

Crossing his arms, DiNozzo followed his boss' motions to face the junior agent's desk. With a clench in his chest, Tim searched another transaction and managed to successfully find the destination.

"This money went to the Falun Gong." Pressing his lips together, McGee glanced up at his superiors.

"The account's used for freedom fighters?" DiNozzo asked, surprise touching his features.

"_Terrorists_," Gibbs corrected.

A low gasp escaped Zavoral as she supported herself against Tony's desk. The team ignored her again.

"They are often the same," Ziva supplied, folding her hands on her desk. With a meaningful smile, she managed to redirect the conversation back to their original purpose.

"So the money for the bad guys?" DiNozzo asked.

"Not our problem," Gibbs shrugged, swiveling back to the plasma. "We need to find the bomb target."

"So then, boss?" DiNozzo grinned, smoothing his suit jacket. "No way we'll get this done by three. Which means - ."

"Yeah, DiNozzo. Come on, McGee you're up," Gibbs stated, marching out of the bullpen. Still engrossed in his hunt for the lost trail in Paris, Tim missed the senior agent blink slowly and raise his eyebrows.

"Boss, you're kidding, right?" DiNozzo laughed, unable to hide the wounded look on his face.

Ziva snickered.

_"Come on, McGee, let's go!" _

"What?" Tim asked, tearing his attention away from his monitor. When he noticed the moody senior agent and Ziva's spiteful smile, he did a double-take.

"What's going on?"


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer : I own nothing but my typos.  
**

**Author's Note : **_Thanks to everyone who's read, favorited and followed this story so far. I also appreciate **scousemuz1k, Maunzeli **and a Guest for taking the time to leave a review. _

_There was a confusion with the last chapter. I condensed a few chapters to get to action quicker. Unfortunately, I didn't realize that I cut a pretty important scene from the end of the last chapter and out it at the start of this one. So apologies on that one. _

_Quicker update so people know what's going on. _

_Owe the wonderful **scousemuz1k **a huge thank you for helping me out with the first scene. I was plagued with rewrites until she talked some sense into me and helped me work out a couple out of character moments for Tony and Gibbs. If you're not familiar with her work, I highly recommend you wander over to her profile and browse through her amazing stories.  
_

_We get to the undercover part in this one. Finally, right? _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**1:11pm – Forensics Lab – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –**

When DiNozzo heard the soft jazz music emanating from Abby's lab, he glanced around to confirm that he'd actually hopped off the elevator. As he continued down the hallway, he felt oddly out of place without the bone-rattling music to drown out his thoughts.

_With Gibbs passing him over for the undercover assignment in favor of the McGeek, now was the time he'd like to have his thoughts drowned out…_

Staring down at the CafPow in his hand, Tony felt the ice slosh against its plastic container when he stopped abruptly. He leaned against the wall, reminiscing about the series of events that brought him to this point.

After Gibbs had shuffled McGee down to Abby's lab for the usual pre-undercover assignment equipment calibration, DiNozzo's unsuccessful attempts to trace Abram's movements within the metro area only re-solidified his desire for the mission. Minutes later the team leader had stalked back into the bullpen, demanding results from Tony and Ziva. DiNozzo had ignored Gibbs' requests. In a moment of temporary insanity, Tony had actually stood from his chair, smoothed his suit jacket and looked the team leader directly in the eye.

"Boss, are you sure McGee's the right choice for this assignment?"

Touching his free hand to his head, DiNozzo cringed when he remembered the feeling of Gibbs' arm around his shoulder when he pulled him to the stairs for quick talk. With Gibbs' face inches from his own, the muted whisper of his boss' concerned voice, Tony always hated how a glimpse of a caring man could appear so quickly only to vanish without a trace. If there had ever been a time that he'd wished for a simple head slap to learn his lesson, that had been the moment. Still feeling his boss' acrid, coffee-laced breath on his face, Tony could hear Gibbs' words reverberate in his head.

"Rule thirty-one."

_Use your best resource. _

With the assignment to impersonate Andrew Newman at his first meeting with Lewis, Tony hadn't thought that the most believable person to go undercover as the Ivy-league educated IT specialist was his own junior agent.

_Yep, missed out on an opportunity to let Tim step up to the plate. That was just one of the many, many reasons that he'd never lead his own team. _

DiNozzo sighed loudly.

Having his fill of self-doubt, Tony marched into the forensics lab.

"Abby, knock it off," McGee pleaded, trying to push the forensic scientist away. Peering into the computer geek's face, Abby stuck her tongue out at him. "Abby. Come on."

"You come on, McGee! Look! I'm on TV!" Abby squealed, waving at Tim. On her computer monitor, an image of the goth grinned back.

"Uh, Abs?" Tony started, glancing between the two.

When McGee looked over, DiNozzo noticed the pair of plastic-rimmed glasses on the junior agent's face. Suddenly, Abby started waving heartily at Tony. Confused, he put his hand up at her.

"Tony, _you're on TV!" _

Rocking on the balls of her feet, Abby enthusiastically pointed at the video feed of DiNozzo on her computer screen.

"Well, then," Tony started, impersonating Christopher Walken, "isn't this a most wondrous piece of technology? Who shall we thank for this honor?"

"Oh, that was great," Abby applauded, while McGee's features turned perplexed. "They're those new recording glasses for undercover missions that I've been bugging the Director for. She told me I had to pick between them and my new PCR machine, can you believe it?"

"But didn't you just get a new PCR machine last week?" McGee asked, watching Abby sneak her hand onto the CafPow Tony held.

"Yeah, Gibbs asked her if I could get both."

As she lunged for the drink, DiNozzo placed it on the lab bench behind him. When she tried to stretch around him, he leaned on the bench and shook his head. In an expensive-looking suit and the plastic-rimmed glasses, the junior agent no longer resembled the mumbling, self-effacing computer geek on whom DiNozzo had come to rely. While he refastened the cuffs of his dress shirt, Tim smiled with a self-confidence that he rarely exuded.

_Maybe his father had been right all these years, a suit could make a man. _

"Whaddya got, Abs?"

"Well, Tony, we have my new set of camera glasses so you'll be able to watch the mission until you guys decide to intervene," Abby explained, sticking her tongue out at McGee. "Oops? I can't get enough of those things. But I'm so glad that I'm not on TV, could you imagine if someone followed you around put all your intimate thoughts on - ?"

"Abs?"

_"Oh yeah," _she continued, grabbing McGee's right wrist to show his watch, "recording device will download audio directly into the transmitter real-time. You'll have to skip the earwig. Suzuki dropped it on his last stakeout. When I got it back, it was all wet. I didn't want to know what happened, but he totally fried the circuits. _Toast._ I only have the big one that goes over the ear right now. Gibbs still has to ask the director for another inner-ear one. Have you ever noticed that she can't say no to him? Do you think - ?"

When she looked over at McGee, Abby distracted herself by waving at him again.

"No wire?" DiNozzo asked.

"Gibbs didn't want to risk it, so - ."

Shrugging, Tim gestured to the glasses and the watch.

When Abby dove for the CafPow, McGee sidestepped, allowing her to finally wrest it from Tony's grasp. She switched off the computer monitor and pushed the recording devices towards Tim.

"I rewired the transmitters, so you should get a half-mile with the watch and a quarter mile from the glasses," she nodded. Taking a long sip from her drink, she saluted both agents before skipping towards inner sanctum to enjoy her spoils.

"Look at you, McBond."

"Yeah, hard to believe Gibbs managed to shake something like this loose from Jackson in accounting. It's Armani," McGee grinned, sounding impressed.

Tony didn't have the heart to tell him that it was a knock-off.

"What's Jackson wearing?"

"One of Ducky's suits from autopsy," McGee laughed, collecting the recording devices into his arms.

"Boss wants us upstairs to review the plan," Tony stated, waving McGee out to the hallway.

"Hey Tony," Tim paused until the senior agent turned around, "what did you mean earlier when you asked Gibbs if he was kidding?"

Rubbing the back of his head, DiNozzo chuckled nervously.

"Took a minute to realize you were right for the job, that's all," Tony shrugged.

A tiny flick of anger blasted across McGee's typically genial face.

"What's that mean?" Tim challenged, pulling the computers closer to his chest.

_Maybe he found a backbone in that suit. _

"Nothing, Probie."

_"You and I both know that meant something." _

"Fine," DiNozzo sighed, shaking his head. "Look, McGee, these guys are dangerous. They're terrorists planting a bomb on the Navy. Over what? Whales? Dead fish? Crabcakes? Not only are they kinda crazy, they're aspiring to be mass murderers. I just thought - ."

"Just what, Tony?" Tim pressed, voice faltering.

"You know, whenever we work Christmas Eve, you always run out of here like you've got somewhere to be." Raising his eyebrows at the younger man, Tony watched McGee's face turn unreadable.

"So do you," he countered.

"Well, yeah, I usually have a date. _Unlike you." _When McGee didn't laugh, Tony continued. "You always seemed like you've got people out there who care about you. I just didn't know if you'd want to take the risk."

As Tim sagged against the lab bench, DiNozzo could tell that he hadn't considered the potential consequences.

"But Tony, you do this stuff all the time. I'm a field agent, same as you. I know I'm ready for this. _I've trained for this. _Don't you remember a few years ago when you ran around the woods handcuffed to that guy?"

"Yeah," DiNozzo shook his head at the memory, "but I didn't know how dangerous he wasn't until he tried to kill me. No one filled me in on his real identity until the debrief."

"Well," McGee said, dropping his eyes to the floor, "we didn't know until we lost contact with you. But didn't you think people here were worried about you, Tony?"

While McGee pressed his lips together, DiNozzo shrugged half-heartedly.

_Didn't matter what happened to him as long as he never lost another partner to violence. While he couldn't protect Kate, he sure as hell could still protect McGee. _

Just as Tim started to speak again, DiNozzo noticed Gibbs' tiny face on the screen by Abby's computer. Even his overly pixelated visage was intimidating.

"Boss - ," Tony started, feeling his cheeks flush.

"Hug it out," Gibbs growled, voice tinny through the speaker, "then get your asses up here."

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**2:49pm – Columbia Self Storage – Logan Circle, Washington, DC –**

Sitting in the parked Charger, McGee took a moment to check his appearance in the rearview mirror. With the plastic rimmed glasses perched on his nose, he hated to admit how awkward he truly felt, like he'd finally found the last accessory he needed to solidify his geek status to the team. Part of him wondered if Tony would ever let him live it down.

_All he needed to hear was Tony singing 'girls don't make passes at geeks who wear glasses.' _

_Again. _

Taking a deep breath, he ran his hand through his hair and stared at the expansive number of storage buildings in front him. Peeking out over the top of a barbed wire fence, he could see dozens of green-roofed structures clustered together.

His phone rang, making him nearly jump out of his seat.

"Yeah?"

DiNozzo's easy voice came over the line.

"Come on, Probster, it's go time."

"On it, bo - ," McGee started, pausing at the mistake. While Tim cringed at the lapse in judgment, Tony laughed heartily.

"Just remember the objective," DiNozzo recapped. "We need the target and one of them to cop to the bomb. As soon as we get that, we'll crash the party. You remember the abort word, right?"

"Shoes," Tim muttered, glaring into the rearview mirror.

Still not sure what possessed them to choose that word, McGee couldn't figure out how to use it without getting himself killed.

"Whoa, don't get your probie pants in a twist. I didn't pick it. Gibbs did. Don't forget we can see and hear, but can't communicate with you. We'll need about 60 seconds to move in, so don't be a hero. Got it?"

"Got it," McGee responded, trying to quell the flutter in his stomach.

"Always maintain the cover and - ," DiNozzo advised until Gibbs yelled something unintelligible in the background. "Gotta go, but good luck, McGee, you got this."

The line went dead before Tim could respond. To convey his appreciation, he grinned at the mirror and shot Tony a thumbs up. McGee climbed out of the car, canvasing the nearly empty parking lot. Only a few sporadically parked vehicles and the delivery van housing Team Gibbs were present. Making a point to not glance at the van, McGee passed through the black metal gate into the storage center. He paused by the entrance, reviewing the large map to determine the location of unit #1802. When he found it clear on the other side of the grounds, Tim grimaced at his watch.

_He was going to be late. _

With vehicles barred from the interior of the inner-city storage unit grounds, Tim knew he'd have to hustle if he planned to make the meet on time. Walking briskly across the campus, he was breathing heavily by the time he reached the correct unit. After knocking on the heavy metal door three times as directed by Lewis's last e-mail, McGee waited impatiently to be granted entry. Trying to ignore the clench in his gut, he glanced down the deserted row of identical storage units in both directions. He swallowed hard, pushing the glasses higher on his nose.

_Definitely wouldn't mind an earwig right now. Even DiNozzo's annoying movie references would be a welcome distraction. _

_'I once saw a movie with - .'_

The door finally slid open, revealing a shorter blonde man. With his square jaw and angry eyes, McGee instantly recognized James Abram.

"Newman?"

"Yeah," Tim nodded, trying to survey the interior over Abram's shoulder.

For all he knew, he could be headed into an ambush.

Abram stepped out of the way, letting McGee over the threshold into the storage unit. While he moved into the darkened room, Tim was oddly comforted by the weight of Ziva's spare revolver in his ankle holster.

_Never thought he'd ever find solace in violence. _

Eyes adjusting to the darkness, McGee noticed the rickety table in the center of the moderately sized storage unit. With its set of mismatched chairs, it surely didn't resemble the super villain's lair that Tim had half-expected.

_Alright, no more comic books. _

On Tim's approach, the two people already seated at the table glanced up at him. Recognizing Maxwell Lewis right away, McGee stared at the unfamiliar, brown-haired man who had evidently joined the ranks of the _Clear Water Crusaders._

"Hey, Newman," Lewis remarked flatly, shaking his hand through his unkempt blonde hair. "Thanks for finally joining us."

"Y-yeah, you know how the work schedule's been," Tim shrugged, feeling relieved when Lewis nodded disinterestedly. "You guys get my donation?"

"Came through a few days ago. You made all this possible," the newcomer smiled, tapping a stack of papers strewn across the table.

When Tim finally got close enough to the table to view the papers, he swallowed hard. Layered on top of each other, several sets of blue prints were unfurled. The topmost was some sort of ship with certain areas annotated in red ink. Raising his eyebrow, McGee gazed intently at the papers and hoped that the team could view them through the video feed.

"You okay, Newman?" Lewis asked suspiciously.

"Of course," McGee grinned, taking an unconscious step towards the door. "It's just a bit stuffy in here, don't you think?"

"Well, why don't we just turn on the climate control?" Abram remarked sarcastically, shaking his head while Tim shrugged off his jacket. "You weren't followed were you?"

When McGee shook his head, Maxwell nodded and gestured towards a chair.

"Good, now, let's get down to business."

"Thanks, Max," McGee stated, dropping his jacket on the back of chair.

Pushed roughly away from the table, Tim stumbled several steps. He turned to ask Lewis the reason, feeling the words die in his throat at the sight of a gun aimed in his face. When he realized Abram blocked the route to the door, McGee raised his hands.

"Just who are you?" Lewis growled, dark eyes narrowed at McGee.

McGee started to defend himself, his gaze finding the gun's barrel. The sweat pricked to his forehead and he stared blankly at the ground.

_"Who are you?"_

"Andrew Newman," Tim lied, his voice faltered. He watched Maxwell grind his teeth.

_"Bullshit," _Lewis muttered. "First of all, nobody calls me Max. _Nobody. _Newman did _once_ in the phone and said that_ it would never happen again._ Second of all, you can't lie for shit. So who the hell are you?"

Abram forced Tim to his knees.

"I – I – I guess I forgot?" McGee sputtered anxiously, desperate to recover the mission. "Maxwell, it is then. Can we get back to - ?"

"Shut up, we all know you're not Andrew Newman."

Biting his lower lip, McGee glanced back to the door. He waited for the team to rush in, guns blazing. When they didn't, his heart sank. He looked around the concrete structure, realizing the walls were probably blocking the audio and video feed.

Bile bit the back of his tongue.

_Son of a - ._

"Nice shoes," he started, unable to accept that his cover was blown.

Lewis rolled his eyes.

"Just who are you?"

"Come on guys, let's get out of here," the brown-haired man spoke up.

"Stay out of this, Conway," Abram snapped, tapping McGee's foot. "Answer the question."

"And - ," Tim started, losing his voice when Lewis pressed the gun against his forehead.

McGee closed his eyes, feeling the perspiration cascade down his face.

"Here's the deal," Lewis explained. "You stay alive if you're useful."

The pressure eased from his head, letting McGee pull a slow inhale. When Lewis loaded a bullet into the gun's chamber, Tim's heart slammed inside his chest. As every last molecule of moisture wicked its way out of his mouth, he glanced wide-eyed at the weapon.

"Last chance, _who the hell are you?" _

Tim fought the terror in throat to string together coherent words.

"Special Agent Timothy McGee," he hiccuped, bracing himself for the bullet's impact. "NCIS."


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer : I own nothing but my typos.  
**

**Author's Note :** _Thanks to all the favoriters, followers, and readers so far. I'd also like to extend an extra thanks to **Rogue Tomato, scousemuz1k, Maunzeli, sopmire, DS2010, AgentD.6, angelscatie, diana teo and Guest - Carol **for the reviews. Your thoughts and time are greatly appreciated. _

_To the anonymous **friend **who hates me because Tim failed at the undercover objective. It's an important part of the story (and actually noted in the summary). Sometimes we have to fail in order to succeed at something else later. So before you condemn me or the story, why not read the whole thing and still see if you feel the same way? Or don't. Whatever the case, the nasty review was unnecessary.  
_

_If you've been reading **Limbo, **I did add a new chapter a few days ago. It'll be finished, so don't worry. I'll get to it again when the mood strikes. _

_Monday/Thursday updates until we're done.  
_

_Enjoy. _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**3:12pm – Columbia Self-Storage – Logan Circle, Washington, DC –**

"NCIS?" Abram repeated, sounding dumbfounded.

"_Shit_," Lewis cursed, pressing his hand to his face. He paced down the length of the storage unit before swiveling to glare at McGee. Swallowing hard, Tim laced his fingers behind his head.

_If he could just get to his back-up weapon, everything would be okay. _

"What does NCIS mean?" Abram asked again, watching Lewis kick a chair across the floor.

_"He's a federal agent_. _He's a freaking federal agent_," Conway lamented, burying his face in his hands. "I told you guys this was a bad idea. _I told you - ."_

_"Shut up, Neil!"_ Lewis shouted, swinging his gun back towards McGee.

With sweat cascading down his face, Tim pressed his moist lips together and dropped his gaze to the ground.

_It had already been two minutes. Tony said they only needed one._

_The team wasn't coming…_

"What _does_ NCIS stand for anyway?"

_Naval Criminal Investigative Service…_

Audibly grinding his teeth, Lewis sent a chair into the concrete wall. It splintered on impact, its remains scattering around the storage unit. Tim decided to err on the side of self preservation and not answer Abram's question. Instead he studied the ripples in the concrete beneath his knees.

_Looked like the ocean._

McGee coughed, suddenly seasick.

"The son of a bitch is a Navy cop," Lewis snarled, rubbing his free hand over his chin again. "Where the hell is Newman?"

"In custody," McGee answered, still not looking at Lewis.

A tense silence rested over the quartet. Too stressed to pull in a breath, McGee counted the waves on the ground. Lewis paced nervously, touching his hand to the back of his head. When Abram exhaled loudly, Conway glanced back towards the exit.

"Let's just get out here," Conway begged, gesturing towards the door with his head.

"Yeah, sounds good to me," Abram agreed. "Waste the cop and split."

While they mulled over the plans for his demise, Tim met Lewis' gaze. The predatory look on Maxwell's face made McGee's heart drop.

"Look, no one said we'd be murdering federal agents. I didn't sign up for that. Let's just leave him and get the hell out of here," Conway wailed, burying his face in his hands again. "I'm - ."

"Shut the hell up, Conway. You're only here to put the damn thing together. I can find another bomb maker," Lewis stated, swinging his gun at the newest target. Deflated, Neil nodded tightly, staring intensely at his shoes.

Sitting back on his knees, McGee started to shift for his back-up revolver.

"I still say we kill him," Abram stated, tapping Tim's leg with his foot. Not expecting the motion, McGee nearly jumped out of his skin.

"They'll be too busy - ."

_This situation was bad. Really, really bad. _

_He just had to get - . _

Suddenly, Abram pulled the revolver from McGee's ankle holster.

"Not a bad choice," he laughed, sounding almost impressed, "_for a cop."_

Feeling his cheeks flush, Tim realized that his only hope was gone. As the glasses started to ride the sweat down his nose, he shoved them higher.

_Where was the team? They had to know something was wrong, didn't they? _

"Take off your watch and tie," Lewis barked, snapping his fingers when McGee didn't move.

"W-what?"

"Watch. Tie. Off now," Lewis repeated, pointing the gun at Tim's face.

Spurred into action, Tim used his trembling fingers to slide off the watch. Maxwell ripped the proffered timepiece out of McGee's grasp, dropping it to the floor and smashing it with his heel. The agent made a face.

_That would come out of his next paycheck, if he were still around to collect one. _

He pulled off his tie, raising his trembling hands. Abram took it out of his hand, glancing towards Lewis clearly confused. An annoyed exhale escaped the leader and he motioned towards McGee.

"_No, no way._ _He is not coming with us,_" Abram protested.

"It's your fault he's here. If you'd handled Newman's roommate, - ."

_"I did handle him. No should have found him. We should just kill the cop." _

Lewis shook his head.

"Bring him. We need the insurance."

Abram let out a ragged exhale, but still followed orders. Pulling McGee's arms behind him, James bound the agent's wrists tightly with the tie. Tim was yanked to his feet. Forced through the storage locker door, McGee blinked heavily against the bright sun. He checked down the passageway, expecting to see the team. As a cool breeze froze the perspiration on his face, he realized they really weren't coming.

Directed towards a sedan at the end of the row of storage units, Tim stared numbly at the gun Abram pressed against his ribs.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**3:13pm – Columbia Self-Storage – Logan Circle, Washington, DC – Concurrent with Tim McGee's Identity Crisis –**

Shaking her head, Regina Zavoral worked frantically to re-establish the connection with either recording device McGee wore into the meet. As the timer counted down the last few minutes that Gibbs had granted his agent to complete the objective, she absently rubbed the microphone on her headset.

"You got anything, Reg?" DiNozzo's voice came through the earpiece.

"Not yet," she stated, swallowing hard.

Her first opportunity to work with a real field team on an actual assignment had turned out less promising than she originally anticipated. Assigned as a temporary TAD for the mission only, she knew that her presence alone had landed her the chance to rub elbows with flesh and blood field agents. She'd hoped to be in the action with DiNozzo and David, but when Gibbs found out she'd failed every round of firearms training to date she'd been cordoned off to the van.

Having spent her entire career in Norfolk in an analyst role, she felt perfectly comfortable working as support staff. However, she usually preferred her equipment to work correctly. Ever since McGee stepped into the storage locker, the recording device and video unit had gone dark. With the other team members in place to infiltrate the meet on her signal, she tried to recover any piece of information she could. Cracking her knuckles, she watched the seconds tick away the ten minutes that Gibbs had given his youngest agent to prove himself.

_That was all the time she had as well before she was banished back to Norfolk. _

"How about now?"

"Nothing yet, Tony."

"What's our time?" Gibbs asked, tension clear in his voice.

"Two minutes, even," Regina responded, staring intently at the clock.

A grainy video from the glasses suddenly appeared on the screen. When McGee's vision jumped from three separate faces at close range, Zavoral took screen shots and started running them through facial recognition.

"I got video," she reported, "but no sound."

"Why?"

"Don't know. Equipment malfunction? Inter - ," she cut off when she noticed Tim was staring at a weapon pointed at his side. "Gun."

_"What?"_

"Abram's got a gun on Tim. They're heading northwest, towards Tony's position," she repeated, helplessly watching the video jump from the gun to a sedan in the distance. Almost instantly, she pulled a screen shot of the car and tried to clean the image enough to make out the license plate.

"_Move in," _Gibbs barked.

As she watched the scene unfold, Zavoral tried to force herself to forget that she watched an old friend's abduction. Listening to three sets of heavy breathing over the head set, she tried to gain access to the storage unit's security system so she could lock down the gates.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Tony appear on the video feed. Darting out from behind a dumpster, he raised his weapon at Tim's captors. Suddenly, he dove out of view.

Several gunshots cracked over her headset, sending Zavoral diving for cover as well.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**3:51pm – Elevator - NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –**

Riding the elevator with the remaining team members in silence, DiNozzo tightened his grasp on his backpack straps and studied their anxious faces. Watching the numbers flash on the car wall, Gibbs appeared ready to explode at the slightest provocation. With her arms crossed over her athletic frame, Ziva stared forward, prepared to move as soon as the doors opened. Against the back wall, Regina rubbed her hands together, her face slick with nausea.

Clenching his jaw, Tony tried not to remember just how close he got to the group before they shuffled McGee into the sedan and sped away.

He'd made his way down an adjacent row of storage units, pausing when he saw a brown Buick parked at the end. Knowing the group planned to use the getaway car, DiNozzo had ducked behind a dumpster. Outnumbered three to one, Tony had hoped that a one-man ambush would slow them down until Gibbs and Ziva could reach his position.

When he'd leaped out from his hiding place, he hadn't even had a chance to aim or announce himself before Lewis and Abram opened fire on him. Like a coward, he'd ducked back behind the dumpster until the shooting ceased. By the time the bullets stopped pinging off the dumpster's exterior, the car's tires were squealing out of the lot. Even though he knew it would do nothing, DiNozzo had unloaded half a clip in hopes that he might hit a tire or taillight. Every shot had missed its target.

Shaking his head, Tony swallowed hard when he thought of the terror in Tim's eyes.

The elevator jerked to a stop. Before the doors even fully opened, Gibbs slithered out, barking orders on the way to the bullpen.

"DiNozzo, check that BOLO and find out what Barrows' team cleared from the scene. Ziva, get me a perimeter. McG - ," the team leader continued out of habit, pausing at the mistake. When he met Tony's eyes, his shoulders slouched. "Zavoral, I want an ID on that other guy. _Now." _

Nodding slowly, Gibbs doubled-back to the elevator. DiNozzo figured that he was headed to tell Abby the bad news in person.

Rushing into the bullpen, the team landed in their respective work stations with Zavoral taking over McGee's desk. He logged onto his computer to check the status of the BOLO, DiNozzo frowned deeply as Regina slid Tim's mouse to the other side of his desk. With no hits yet, Tony dialed the team leader to NCIS' other MCRT who Gibbs had asked to clear so they could personally spearhead the investigation at headquarters.

"Steve Barrows." The friendly voice came over the line.

"Steve, it's DiNozzo," Tony stated, watching Ziva slam her phone back onto the receiver. "Has your team reached the scene yet?"

"Already cleared it. There wasn't much there. A suit jacket and a table in the unit. McGee's phone, wallet and a knife were in the jacket. Few shell casings out by the dumpster and the area where the car was. We pulled a couple prints off the table and tire tracks out of the entrance way, but that's it. Looks like they cut the lock on the barricade to gain access with the car. What kind of storage unit - ?"

"Thanks. Can - ?"

"Suzuki will have it to Abby before I get in the garage," Barrows promised.

"Thanks, Steve. Got - ," DiNozzo started, before Steve cut him off.

"Tony, don't worry. Gibbs has that kid's back, he's going to be fine."

Not sure what else to say, DiNozzo nodded as he placed the phone back on its cradle. Across the bullpen, Ziva's dark eyes narrowed at her monitor. She said something in Hebrew and transferred a map of the southern part of DC to the plasma.

"Got something, Ziva?"

"Yes, but it is not good," the Israeli nodded, pressing her lips together. "According to Metro, the traffic cameras on I Street were nonfunctional today for a routine system upgrade. All cameras from East Potomac Park to Logan Circle were affected, as well as from Constitutional Gardens to the Anacostia Freeway."

"Shit," DiNozzo cursed, staring blankly at the map on the plasma.

"What's that mean?" Zavoral questioned, raising her eyes from McGee's monitor.

"It's means there's a section of the city with no traffic cameras. We can't track their movements," DiNozzo explained, pointing to the blacked-out areas on the map.

"There are several on-ramps to 295 that were unmonitored as well," Ziva stated, dropping back into her chair as she decided to try another tactic.

Tony closed his eyes, allowing the newest information wash over him. He ran his hand over his face, opening his eyes as though something might have changed by the action. Regina's eyes met his and she exhaled shakily.

"So that means Tim could be anywhere?"

"Yeah, Reg," Tony echoed, staring hopelessly at the map, "he could be anywhere."


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer : If you recognize it, I still don't own it.  
**

**Author's Note : **_Thanks to everyone reading, favoriting, and following this story so far. As always, extra thanks to **DS2010, scousemuz1k, AgentD.6, diana teo, angelscatie, and Maunzeli **for the reviews. I appreciate seeing what you guys are thinking as I'm progressing. _

_Happy Saturday. _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**4:08pm – Unknown Location –**

Crammed against the floor in the backseat of the Buick, McGee had tried to keep track of the vehicle's movements. Though after the first few turns, Tim had lost all sense of direction. As far as he could tell, the continual stops and slow speed made him think they'd never left the city. Based on the pins and needles starting to crawl up his legs, Tim figured they had been driving for quite some time.

"Where are we going?" McGee repeated, unsure how many times he'd asked the question.

He started to lift his head, knowing he'd never see anything with the jacket Abram had tossed over him. Abram shushed him again, pressing the gun deeper into his back. McGee dropped down to the floor. Underneath him, the terrain shifted from the smooth asphalt to a rougher, bouncier ride. His stomach burned and he decided to chalk it up to motion sickness, seemed better than the alternative. They rode in silence for several long minutes until the car ground to a halt. The weapon finally slid away from McGee's back when Abram climbed out of the car. McGee straightened off the floor and had barely enough time to raise his head before a pair of rough hands pulled him outside.

"You two go ahead. Get that space ready," Lewis ordered. Numb legs barely able to support his sudden weight, Tim didn't have a chance to gain his footing before Lewis shoved him roughly forward.

"Walk."

Taking a few slow steps, McGee tried to gather his bearings as quickly as he could. Underneath his feet, there was the springiness of grass mixed partially with gravel. The scent of stale cigarette smoke from the jacket assaulted his nose and Tim coughed violently. When he inhaled again to catch nothing but more smoke, he heard a scarcely audible boat horn followed by a seagull's laugh.

Tim froze.

_Water. He was near water. _

_ "I said, walk,"_ Lewis growled, shoving McGee forward.

He stumbled a few strides, pausing again while he tried to formulate a plan.

_The best time to make a move would be when Lewis wasn't expecting it. _

When Maxwell's hand landed in his shoulder, McGee kicked violently backwards, knocking his captor down. He managed to catch an edge of the jacket and shake it off his head. Lewis started to his feet, Tim kicked him again.

Lewis fell back to the ground, no longer moving.

Heart pounding, Tim desperately tried to extricate his hands from his tie while trying to figure out where he'd been taken. The recording glasses followed the perspiration down his nose, blocking his vision, and he shook his head until he managed to move them.

_With everything that had happened, how were they still on his face?!_

Quickly surveying the area, McGee stood at the beginning of a dock across the river from a waterfront section of Washington DC. Several yards away, a solitary boathouse waited at the edge of a deserted, gravel street adjacent to an open grassy patch littered with a few sparse trees. When he realized there was nowhere to run, Tim's heart sank.

_Almost looked like someone's private marina on the Anacostia. _

Staring helplessly out at the skyscrapers, McGee watched a barge lazily navigating the waterway. His pulse pounded in his ears, Tim could only hope they'd be able to hear him.

_"Help! Someone help - !" _

A hand clamped over Tim's mouth, muffling his shouts. Lewis pulled the agent backwards and shoved his gun roughly against McGee's ribs.

Tim inhaled sharply.

"Nice try," Lewis laughed, guiding the agent towards the boat house.

Maxwell marched Tim forward towards the dark-wood building. As they passed over the carefully crafted wood threshold into the first room, McGee stared numbly at the large boat whose top stretched clear to the rafters. On the smooth side, her name was carefully painted in curling gold script.

_Raggio del Sol. _

_Well, at least he knew how they planned to escape. He just had to figure out the same. _

Their footsteps echoed hollowly over the wooden planks beneath them. While the water lapped against the boat, McGee started to feel seasick just looking at it. Lewis pushed Tim through the second room that appeared to be serving as living quarters. With several unkempt beds and a small table littered with trash, McGee wondered just how long they'd been hiding out in the boathouse. Right before they slid into the last room, Tim noticed the pile of blueprints stacked in the corner. While he wondered what they contained, Lewis forced him through the doorway. The hot, humid air hit him in the face, leaving him sweating almost instantly.

Surrounded by boxes and loose boating equipment, Tim realized he'd found himself in the junk room.

Under the dim overhead light, Conway and Abram transferred several crates out of a chain link, lockable storage closet. When he grasped where Lewis planned to hold him, Tim tried to wrest himself out of his captor's grasp. At the same moment, Maxwell released his hold and McGee stumbled forward. A hard shove sent him tumbling into the closet-turned-cell. He fell hard on his shoulder, barely able to bite back a yell. While he rolled to his knees, the door slammed.

"You don't want to do this," McGee stated, eyes fixed on the uneven floor beneath him.

"Yeah, okay."

Clicking the lock in place, Lewis dramatically rolled his eyes. Abram snickered.

"If you let me go now, I can help you," Tim tried. "I can make all this go away."

"Maybe we should take him up on that," Conway agreed, nodding emphatically. As he started towards the cell door, Lewis roughly grabbed his arm.

"Sorry, cop, but your trouble's just getting started."

Waving his hands, Lewis led the other two men out of the room. When the door slammed, McGee frantically tried to loosen the bonds on his wrists. Stepping around the cell, he searched for any weakness in the chain link fence to exploit for his freedom.

Before he could find anything, the overhead light cut out, sending him into darkness.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**5:39pm – Forensics Lab – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –**

"How can McGee be missing?" Abby Scuito fretted, rocking back on her heels as she clutched her stuffed hippo closer to her chest.

While two scans scrolled through their respective databases on the computer monitors over her shoulder, she stared teary-eyed at the entrance to the lab where Jethro Gibbs waited. When he opened her mouth to speak, the devastated look on her face stopped him. Gibbs realized that no words could comfort her at this point. Despite his multitude of explanations and promises of Tim's safe return, it was evident that Abby would accept neither the why nor the how.

"He's always here, Gibbs," she sighed, pressing the stuffed hippo into his arms.

When the toy passed gas in his hand, the team leader debated whether he might be better served collecting his thoughts in autopsy.

_Though Ducky's musings might be worse than Abby's tirade. Maybe he'd be best hiding out in the head. _

While Abby dug through her pile of evidence bags from McGee's abduction, Gibbs stared down at toy. As if reading his thoughts, the hippo passed gas again. Gibbs rolled his eyes. With no other physical evidence other than a tire track and a few shell casings, the team leader had figured Abby would get through it quickly. Though as he watched her flit anxiously around her lab, he realized that she had more than just evidence to work through.

She wasn't the only one.

He'd just needed time to unwind the tension in his gut and let the remainder of his team run through their leads. Gibbs knew they usually did their best work in his absence. As she rubbed a tear away from her cheek on her way to her microscope with the shell casings, the team leader felt the clench in his abdomen tighten.

_If only Abby could accept that he'd never left a man behind, not in the desert, not in the field._

_ McGee would come home. _

Abby's tight voice started murmuring quiet, incoherent noises. Whenever upset, the forensic scientist had a tendency to babble herself through the work. Thoughts that overflowed her churning brain started out as tiny mumblings before taking on syllables and growing into coherent words. Even though he'd given up trying to understand the method years ago, he'd always found it endearing.

_Methods never mattered, only results. _

He pulled another swig of the coffee he'd found in the lab.

Her mutters became comprehensible.

"Always here," she mumbled, scarcely audible as she hunched over the microscope. "Timmy's part of the team. _Part of my team." _

When the words finally ceased, Gibbs knew she'd found something. He abandoned his post, approaching her ballistics bench. Pointing to the two identical shell casings that she'd brought up on the monitor, she covered her eyes with her hands.

"Same brass from the same weapon at the scene. Makes sense," Gibbs nodded, not understanding her reaction.

"No, Gibbs," she murmured, shaking her head. "The shell on the right came from the storage locker. The one on the left is from Fox's car."

"So same weapon at McGee's abduction and Fox's murder?"

She bit her lower lip, nodding slowly.

"Casings from three different guns," she held up one jar holding several brasses. "These are the four that Tony fired. I'll have to check what kind of gun these other ones are from. But this bullet was definitely fired by the weapon that killed Fox. Do you think - ?"

Holding his finger to her lips, Gibbs gently kissed her forehead.

"Not on my watch," he murmured, pulling her into a tight hug. While she sobbed into his chest, he stared at the identical casings on the screen.

A loud beeping destroyed their moment, as she rushed towards the computers on her main lab bench. By the time they reached the first one, the second monitor flashed with a hit from her search. Within seconds, Gibbs was by her side.

"I don't - . It doesn't - ," she started, exhaling slowly to center herself. "Got a hit on the tire tracks. The tread's from a common set of Firestones, factory standard on Buicks. Not in the system for any unsolved crime. Plus they're so common that they're pretty much everywhere."

She pointed to the picture of the unidentified man on the second search.

"But this is hinky. I ran him through facial recognition and got a match in AFIS, but access to the file is restricted."

"What branch?"

"Might be the Marines, though it's blocked by Homeland Security. So I'm not sure."

"Think you can get into it?" Gibbs asked, glancing towards the blackened file on the screen.

"Well, it'd be easier if McGee were here. But I'll try my best, Bossman," Abby nodded, her sadness quickly replaced with determination.

"That's my girl," Gibbs grinned, kissing her cheek.

His phone rang.

"Gibbs."

"Boss," DiNozzo's tense voice responded, "got a hit off the BOLO from Metro. Buick's parked outside an apartment building in Truxton Circle. Man matching Lewis' description entered a unit of the first floor about half an hour ago. "

"Tell them to hold their position. Have Ziva meet me in the garage."

"Boss - ?" Gibbs flipped the phone closed.

_Best not to tell DiNozzo that he planned to do whatever necessary to bring McGee home alive. _

_Right now, Ziva's definition of 'whatever necessary' might be more in line with what they needed. _

When he turned to head out of the lab, Abby blocked his retreat.

"Promise you'll bring him home safe," she asked quietly, staring intently at Gibbs. The tears springing to her eyes and the trails of mascara down her cheeks froze him in his tracks.

"Promise," he nodded, pulling her in for a close hug again.

A quick kiss to her forehead and he slid past her, bolting for the garage.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer : If you recognize it, I still don't own it.  
**

**Author's Note :** _Thanks to all the favoriters, followers, and readers so far. As always, extra thanks to **Maunzeli, Skylar Owens, diana teo, angelscatie, jennii.b, and AgentD.6 **for the reviews. I truly do appreciate the time you take to let me know how I'm doing. _

_Thanks to whoever's been archiving my stories in communities. Appreciate that as well. _

_Just in case anyone missed it, I snuck an update in on Saturday. Read it before you read this one! _

_This is the chapter (and the rest of the story) where the characters started to run amok with me. They just did whatever they wanted really so it gets a little more interesting (and dangerous). _

_Enjoy! _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**6:13pm – Apartment Complex – Truxton Circle , Washington, DC –**

Back leaned flat against the plaster wall, Gibbs stared intently into Ziva's tense face. Shoulders squared towards the door of the apartment where someone saw Lewis enter, she rocked back her weight back, readying herself to kick it open. She only needed Gibbs' nod to set her forth. Somewhere in the building, a baby's screams ripped through the paper-thin walls and his gut clenched. He confirmed the Metro cops' positions down the hallway and wondered why Lewis would choose to hide in plain sight.

_Seemed too easy. _

"Gibbs?" Ziva questioned, gesturing towards the door.

He nodded slowly, feeling the doorframe break through the wall as she kicked it down. When it splintered off the hinges, a pair of shouts echoed inside the apartment. Rushing inside, the team leader followed the yells into the living room while Ziva covered his flank.

_"NCIS!"_

_"DC PD!"_

Over the back of a ratty couch, a man and woman's head popped, their expressions terrified. The woman stood first, pulling a blanket over her unclothed form. Narrowing her eyes at the man, she jumped back onto the couch to pummel him.

"What the hell are you into, you bastard? You didn't tell me - ," she shouted, lashing out until Ziva pushed her into an overstuffed armchair.

Scrambling off the couch, the shirtless man raised his hands. Confused, he glanced between Gibbs and the pair of uniforms before he noticed his destroyed front door.

"Oh come on, guys, what the hell? Is that how you knock? What the hell is going on? Who are you people? What the - ?"

"Maxwell Lewis?" Gibbs interrupted.

Even though he bore a striking resemblance to their suspect, as soon as Gibbs saw the large, brown birthmark on his cheek that he wasn't their suspect.

"Aidan Petrovsky. What's this - ?"

Without another word, Gibbs pushed past the confused officers.

_"Hey! Come back here! Who the hell's going to pay for my door?!" _

___-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**6:44pm – Boathouse – Somewhere Outside Washington, DC –**

Fingers slick with blood and sweat, McGee carefully unwound the wire that attached the chain-link enclosure to its support beam. When his grip slipped off the smooth metal again, he cursed quietly, hanging his aching head to his chest.

_Already managed to get two wires off. Just a few more and there'd be a big enough space for him to escape. Just a few more and he'd be able to go home. _

_He just wanted to go home. _

Tim exhaled slowly, reaching his exhausted fingers for the wire again. With his hands bound behind him, the labor could be described torturous at best. Though as the numbness started to prick its way down his hands, it was becoming nearly impossible.

"Come on. Almost there. Come on, come on. _Almost, almost, come on, come on. Yes," _Tim murmured, feeling the third piece of wire fall away.

Pushing on the chain-fence, he grinned at the opening that he'd created. Still not quite large enough to fit through, his progress so far had been sufficient. Just as he found the next one, the overhead light flicked on, momentarily blinding him. Tim blinked the spots from his vision as he slid to the opposite side of the cell. Knowing someone was coming to check on him again, he leaned his back against the wall to avoid rousing their suspicion.

But when both Lewis and Abram entered the room, their motions purposeful, McGee sprang to his feet. The sight of the rolled piece of fabric tucked under Maxwell's arm made Tim's blood run cold. He guarded the entrance to his cell, glancing nervously between the two men.

"Get away from the door," Abram ordered, pulling his gun out.

"Look, you don't have to do this." Tim's pulse thudded in his ears.

"Back it up," Lewis barked, narrowing his eyes when Tim didn't.

Maxwell's hand connected with the chain-link door. The strike surprised Tim, sending him stumbling a few steps away. By the time he recovered, the door to his cell opened. Lewis dropped the piece of fabric to the floor and McGee pressed his lips together, studying the dirt on the top of his shoes.

_Just what was he supposed to do? Weaponless and hands bound, he was certainly no match for Abram or Lewis, let alone both of them. Anyone else on the team could take them down right now, bound or unbound. Not that any of them would be in this mess to begin with. _

_There was no way in hell that Gibbs would be here. Tony could've talked himself out of the standoff back at the storage unit, recovered the mission and be stealing everyone's celebratory takeout by now. And Ziva? Well, she could kill anyone before they even thought to question her identity. _

_Tim was the only one who would end up like this. _

_Even though they were going to kill him, he still wouldn't go down without a fight. _

_He just needed an opportunity. _

_He just needed an opportunity to make his team proud. _

McGee swallowed hard.

"You don't - ," Tim tried again, wondering exactly how his shoes managed to get so dirty.

_"Shut up already,"_ Abram growled, dropping the bucket he carried. He reached into it and set a few bottles of water on the floor.

Perplexed, Tim raised his eyebrow at Lewis rolling out a sleeping bag. McGee ultimately decided not to question the kindness, lest he convince them to change their mind. When Lewis finished, he rose and approached McGee. Without any space to move away, Tim felt Maxwell grab his shoulder and pull a knife out of the sheath on his hip.

Tim hiccupped, trying to swallow the bile.

_So much for the sleepover, looked like they - . _

"Nothing stupid, got it?"

Wide eyes fixated on the ugly blade, the agent nodded mutely before Lewis cut the bindings on his wrists. Maxwell pulled Tim's hands in front of him, holding his wrists tightly together while Abram roughly zip-tied them together. The pins and needles of sensation had just started to prick their way back to his fingertips, gone with the last click of the zip-tie. Tim tried to get it back, flexing his fingers as the pair slid out of his cell. While McGee finally plucked the recording glasses off his face, Lewis and Abram locked his cell, slamming the door as they left.

Tim rubbed the bridge of his nose.

_Last time he wore those on an undercover mission. _

_Scratch that, last time he ever went undercover. _

Grabbing one of the water bottles, McGee scrambled back to his escape route with a new found urgency. As soon as he relocated the next wire in his line to freedom, the room fell dark again.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**8:31pm – Bullpen – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –**

Arms crossed, Jethro Gibbs glared angrily at the images plastered on the plasma. In the center of the screen, a map of the greater tri-state area covered by an ever-enlarging red circle with its epicenter at the storage unit. Stuck in the bottom corner of the screen, Tim McGee's stock NCIS photo watched him think. Against his better judgment, Gibbs let his eyes linger on the image of his youngest agent. Baby-faced and kind-eyed, McGee certainly didn't resemble a typical field agent. The team leader often had a hard time looking past Tim's youthful appearance, allowing himself to assign more dangerous missions to Tony and Ziva by default. Perhaps it was Gibbs' unconscious way of protecting McGee from harm, someone else's child that he still looked every bit of.

_Figures the one time he actually lets the junior agent take on something dangerous…_

_It was supposed to be easy. Get in, get confessions and information, get out and join the team for the arrest. Even when the recording equipment went dark, he still gave Tim ten minutes to complete the mission because without confessions, they had nothing. But in eight minutes the group had managed to escape, his agent taken hostage. _

_He hadn't been there, just like he'd promised each and every agent that ever joined his team. _

The frantic clicks of three sets of keyboards echoed through the office and Gibbs shook his head at the photo's blank state, an apology on deaf ears. The circle on the map grew larger, stretching deeper into Virginia and Maryland.

Rubbing his hand over his face, Gibbs knew his youngest agent could be anywhere.

_But to watch the miles accumulate in real time. _

"Somebody tell me something!"

"Boss, Metro ran down a few leads off the BOLO," Tony DiNozzo sighed, keeping his eyes on his computer. "Nothing connected to Lewis, Abram or our mystery man. Suzuki and Barrows are running point on their side of the investigation. But we finally did get the sketch back from Harrison about the guy who offered to place a bomb for _PEBY." _

With a few mouse clicks, a thin-faced man with expertly styled hair appeared over the map.

"Look familiar?"

"That is Fox's roommate, Andrew Newman," Ziva nodded, leaning forward on her desk.

"And the award goes to - ," DiNozzo started until he noticed Gibbs' glare. "I'll keep looking, boss."

Ignoring McGee's picture, Gibbs stared at the sketch of Newman against his DMV photo and pulled a swig of his coffee. Even though the specifics of their case were coming together neatly, he just couldn't quash that itch in his gut. Knowing Tim's abduction was partially responsible, there was still something else that just didn't feel right.

_There was something that they were missing. _

"Zavoral?"

"I'm still trying to get into the database, sir," Regina Zavoral remarked quietly, sinking lower in her chair. "It's a higher encryption level than I'm familiar with."

"Ziva?"

"I have uncovered information on Abram," Ziva David said, retrieving the remote off her desk and bringing up a DMV picture of Abram. "James Abram, 41, no wife, no children, both parents deceased. Failed out of Syracuse in 1986 after attempting a degree in chemistry. He has worked minimum wage jobs since then. Most recently, he worked at a local McDonald's until one month ago. His former employer stated that Abram quit and left no forwarding address for his last paycheck. His last known address is a condemned building."

Unsure how Abram fit into the bomb plan with Lewis and Newman, Gibbs listened to the agents working quickly in the bullpen. While Lewis was a loose cannon, bred to disrespect authority and angry with the Navy for an earned discharge and Newman was a young man, bored with the status quo and money to burn, Gibbs couldn't see how Abram rounded out the trio.

_Not to mention their mystery man._

Beneath the suspect's picture, the red circle grew again. He exhaled slowly.

"Boss," DiNozzo relayed, transferring a picture of a young woman to the plasma, "Abram has no connections to _Put Earth Before Yourself, _but his wife does. Well, she _did. _Holly Abram died in 1995 during a protest against a whaling fleet. The boat capsized, taking five people with it. Coast Guard never recovered the body."

"If his wife did not believe in whaling, why would Abram wish to attack the Navy?" Ziva asked, sounding confused.

"It's not about attacking the Navy," Zavoral interjected, "it's about protecting the whales."

"Her mission becomes his," DiNozzo agreed.

"You find that guy yet, Zavoral?" Gibbs growled, watching Regina's features tense.

"Not yet, sir. Still working," she sighed, turning back to the computer.

"So where'd the money come from?" DiNozzo asked.

"What money?"

"The money that Abram deposited into Newman's account for _The Sun Ray Foundation. _He works in fast food, right? There's no way he made enough that he could bankroll this operation alone."

Pressing his lips together, Gibbs mulled over his senior agent's question. When they had originally accessed _The Sun Ray Foundation's _bank account, he'd been so preoccupied with figuring out the destination of the money that he forgot about its origin before Abram.

_Everything has a start and an end. _

He slammed his hand against the back of his head, ignoring the quiet that fell over the bullpen.

"Did he - ?" Regina started, glancing over at Tony.

Without pulling his eyes off his computer, the senior agent shook his head.

"Zavoral, find out where the money started," Gibbs ordered, swiveling to meet her widened, light eyes.

"I'll need a few minutes. It's easier to follow a trail than - ."

_"You've got one."_

She gasped quietly, staring at Gibbs in disbelief until he checked his watch. Making a face, she frantically pulled Abram's bank account information. With several more clicks of her mouse, she put an active search on the screen. The trio watched her work in silence as the money flashed through several accounts all over the world.

Eventually, an account number popped up on the plasma. A few clicks later and a picture of an attractive, middle aged blonde appeared.

"It's a personal checking account belonging to Sunshine Harrison," Zavoral reported, grimacing when she checked her time.

"Boss?" Tony stood, already reaching for his Sig.

"Yeah, DiNozzo and Ziva go talk to Harrison again. Zavoral, find out who that guy is," Gibbs barked, narrowing his eyes at the plasma. As the two agents hustled out the bullpen, the team leader stared blankly at McGee's picture.

_Just where the hell was Tim? _

Almost sensing his frustration, the red circle enlarged, finally touching the southernmost part of Pennsylvania. The clicks of Zavoral's labors sounded as hollow as he felt.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a figure pass Tony's desk on its way into the bullpen. Wondering if DiNozzo needed more clarification for his order, Gibbs ground his teeth and turned, ready to make his senior agent wish he'd never returned. When he saw a fair-faced, grey-haired woman in Tony's place, Gibbs narrowed his eyes at her. Under any other circumstance, her long legs and attractive smile would have earned more help than he felt like providing at the moment.

"Whaddya want?"

"Sorry to intrude," the woman said, raising her eyebrows at Zavoral's earnest activity, "but maybe you can help me?"

"With what?" he sneered, glaring as her smile broadened.

"I'm Candice Delancey, Homeland Security. The deputy director asked me to speak to Director Shepard. Do you know where could I find her?"

Zavoral slid silently out of her chair, vanishing under McGee's desk.


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer : If you recognize it, I still don't own it.  
**

**Author's Note : **_As always, thank you to all the readers, favoriters and followers so far. Extra thanks to **DS2010, Maunzeli, scousemuz1k, jennii.b, angelscatie, and diana teo **for the reviews. _**  
**

_I truly appreciate the time your take to leave your thoughts. _

**_Limbo _**_made an appearance a few days ago if you've been following it. _

_Enjoy. _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**9:12pm – Residence of Sunshine Harrison – Chevy Chase, MD –**

"So why would Harrison build out Newman for the bombing?" Ziva asked while DiNozzo parked the Charger in front of the bungalow.

"For the last time, Zee-vah, it's a set-up. Not a build out, that's what you do for a house," he explained, climbing out of the car. While the cool fall air bit through his suit jacket, he pulled it tighter.

"I thought you set-up a house."

"Well." He pressed his lips together when he realized she was technically right. "Okay, I'll give you that one. But you know they set Newman up to be the fall guy, right?"

"Fall guy?" she nodded thoughtfully. "Well, it is autumn."

"Not fall guy, _fall guy. _The patsy, the mark, the schlub, the - ." When he noticed her confused face, Tony shook his head. "They're trying to blame him for the bomb."

"Why did you not say that to begin with?" she questioned, following him up the steps to the porch. Running his hand down his face, DiNozzo pounded on the door. As he gazed out at the wilted husks of the former vegetable garden, he clenched his teeth at Ziva's continual confusion.

_How could they speak the same language and still not understand each other?_

"So what is a patsy?"

DiNozzo had just enough time to roll his eyes before the door opened.

"Agent DiNozzo, Officer David, what brings you two back so soon?" Sunshine smiled, leaning through the doorframe.

"Not the nut bars," Tony muttered.

"What was that?"

"We had more questions," DiNozzo grinned, pushing the door open. "Do you mind if we come in?"

Sunshine glanced over her shoulder, making a face when she turned back to the agents.

"Actually, it's really not a good time right now. Could I give your office a call tomorrow morning?"

"It'll only take a minute," DiNozzo pressed, sliding backwards when Harrison stepped to the porch and shut the door behind her.

"Okay, what did you need to know?"

"Are you familiar with Andrew Newman?" Ziva asked, holding out a picture of Fox's roommate while Sunshine studied it.

"Maybe? He looks a lot like the guy who offered to blow up a fishing boat for _PEBY. _Did my sketch help you find him?" she nodded, hugging her arms to her chest.

"How about this man?" Ziva pulled out a picture of Abram.

Fleeting recognition blasted in Sunshine's eyes before she pressed her lips together, shaking her head emphatically.

"I've never seen him before. Is he working with the other guy?"

"You could say that," DiNozzo shrugged. "Would you mind telling us how a large sum of money managed to find its way into his account from yours?"

"Bank error. You know how they're always putting money in the wrong accounts," she smiled, placing her hand on the door.

"It is your money that has been used for the bomb," Ziva accused, pushing the door closed again. Narrowing her eyes, Sunshine wretched it open.

"By the way," she said flatly, "I was sorry to hear about your other agent. How _is_ your search progressing?"

"We didn't mention him," DiNozzo growled, shrugging away Ziva's restraining hand on his forearm. He balled his hands into fists, ready to beat McGee's location out of Harrison. Instead he threw his arm against the door, blocking her path.

"Oh, I must be mistaken. I thought you said something about a missing agent. I must be hearing things again," she shrugged, ducking underneath DiNozzo's outstretched arm. "Now am I under arrest or not? If not, I think future conversations should go through my lawyer."

DiNozzo leaned his weight against the door, trying to quell his desire to arrest Harrison.

_If he arrested her, he knew she'd never talk. _

_If there was an assault charge, there'd be no way that he could finish recovery efforts from jail. _

_Rescue efforts. _

Breathing hard, Tony stepped out of the way and stared angrily as Harrison scurried back into her bungalow. Closing his eyes, he attempted to push the rage from his mind.

"Tony."

He let out a feral yell, right before he put his hand through the vinyl siding. Without a word, DiNozzo stalked back to the car.

"Tony," Ziva started, pausing when he shook his head.

He ripped off his tie, wrapping it carefully around his bloodied knuckles. As he tossed Ziva the keys, he flexed his fingers and climbed into the car.

"Guess all that peace and love hippie bullshit doesn't mean anything," DiNozzo remarked.

"So she is a fall woman as well?"

"She's running the show."

Rolling his eyes, DiNozzo pulled a pair of binoculars out of the backseat and passed them to Ziva. While she silently monitored the house, Tony called Gibbs. The phone rang straight into voicemail. When his redial met the same result, he sighed loudly.

"What is wrong?"

"Can't get ahold of Gibbs. We need to head back."

"Is it wise?"

Pressing his lips together, DiNozzo stared at the illuminated bungalow. Harrison's darkened form appeared in one of the windows, leaning over to water the plants. When she noticed the car still in front of her house, she slid the blinds closed. Tony's glower deepened.

"Yeah, McGee isn't here. She'd never have said anything like that if he was. I'll see if Barrows can get a few uniforms sent over to sit on her."

Nodding, Ziva started the car and maneuvered it away from the curb. As Tony's call went straight to Gibbs' voicemail again, he let out an exasperated sigh and slammed the phone closed.

"Speed it up, Ziva."

She grinned at him, hitting the gas. While the car lurched forward, DiNozzo was thrown back in passenger seat.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**9:21pm – Office of NCIS Director Jenny Shepard – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –**

As he waited at the entrance to the director's office, Jethro Gibbs watched Candice Delancey lean slowly back against the visitor's chair. Shaking a hand through her slate-colored hair, she gazed intensely at Jenny Shepard. The director leaned onto her desk, glancing at Gibbs for the reason that brought a Homeland Security agent to her office after-hours. When he gave no indication, Shepard smiled politely at Candice.

"So, Agent Delancey, what brings you all the way down here?"

"Well, Director Shepard," she explained, "we've had numerous intrusion attempts into our secure personnel files over the past few hours. Deputy Director - ."

Gibbs gripped the door handle, prepared to leave the meeting.

"Jethro," Shepard said, more order than offer, "why don't you stay for this?"

"Got a case to solve, Jen."

"Seems like you're already doing that," she paused until he faced her. "Alright, Agent Delancey, can you explain the intrusion attempts?"

"Well, two hackers have attempted to retrieve the personnel data for a deep cover agent involved in a domestic terror plot," Candice coolly replied.

Gibbs' jaw visibly tensed.

"What makes you think it involves my agency?"

"Our tech guys were able to track the IP addresses of the attempts to this building. They're from two different work stations. I can provide - ." Reaching into her briefcase, Delancey retrieved a piece of paper.

"That won't be necessary," Shepard stated, staring at Gibbs. With a defiant shrug, he crossed his arms.

"Well, Deputy Director Higgins asked me to give you a courtesy call before anyone gets in too much trouble. When I arrived, I was informed the attacks are still underway."

Exhaling slowly, Shepard mulled over the information for several long moments until her glare fixed on Gibbs. Before she had a chance to speak, he approached Delancey.

"What's your agent's name?"

Sliding a thin file out of her briefcase, Candice pushed it onto the director's desk.

"Neil Conway. If you'd just called, I'd have released the information. But I came to give you," she gestured first towards Jenny, then Gibbs, "a head's up on your people's _blatant disregard_ for protocol and to give _you _a status report on your man. Agent McGee, correct?"

"Yeah."

"When Conway last made contact, your agent was holding up fine."

"When was that?"

Checking her watch, she shook her head. "Little over two hours ago."

"Where is he?"

Pressing her lips together, Delancey shook her head. As she rose from the chair, she dropped the file on Shepard's desk.

_"Where is he?" _Gibbs growled.

"I apologize, Agent Gibbs. I'm not at liberty to say. If I divulge that information, it has the potential to compromise months of prep and undercover work as well as my agent's safety."

"What about _my _agent's safety?"

"I can assure you that Agent Conway will work to the best of his ability to protect Agent McGee."

_"Bullshit," _he growled, glancing at Delancey. _"Where the hell's my agent?" _

"I'm not at liberty - ."

_"The hell you aren't - ." _

"Agent Gibbs, that's enough!" Shepard shouted, slamming her hands on her desk as she stood. Obviously surprised at the routine outburst, Candice did a wide-eyed double take between the two. "Agent Delancey, please accept my sincerest apologies. _That will not happen again. _Perhaps you could see fit to allow my people to assist on the case?"

Letting out a disgusted exhale, Gibbs rolled his eyes while Shepard glared him down.

_Figured Jen would ask for some joint task force bullshit. All he had to do was catch Delancey in the elevator and he'd know exactly where McGee was being held. _

_It'd take him five minutes what Jen's pussyfooting would take weeks. _

"Assist only," Candice stated, her voice careful and calculating. "Two stipulations, Director Shepard. Homeland Security runs the show and we postpone any rescue efforts for Agent McGee until we've confirmed their target."

Shepard leaned back in her chair, carefully debating the offer.

"Bullshit," Gibbs roared. "You complete your objective and sacrifice my agent?"

"We aren't sacrificing any - ."

_"Yeah right. I - ." _

"Enough, Agent Gibbs, that's en - ," Shepard started.

"Fine, I'm on vacation," Gibbs brusquely interrupted, marching for the door.

"But, Jethro, you're in the middle of a case."

As he wrapped his hand around the door handle, he glared over his shoulder at Delancey. With her briefcase clutched tightly to her chest, she stared at him, mouth gaping in shock. Before he exploded at her lack of concern over the current situation, he tried to count away his rage like Mallard always suggested.

_One. _

_One and a half. _

_Tw - ._

_"Seems like you already have someone handling it." _

Shepard's jaw fell open, while he stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind him. He flew past Jenny's secretary and the young woman smiled at him, offering him a cup of coffee.

"Agent Gibbs, the coffee you requested. _Not from the cafeteria," _she whispered, conspiratorially.

Without bothering to consider the origin of the drink, Gibbs snatched it out of her hand and slammed her door on the way out for good measure. Within seconds, he stormed through the bullpen. With only Zavoral present, he wondered what had kept Tony and Ziva.

Pausing by his desk, he started rummaging through the drawers.

"Sir," Zavoral glanced up, grinning excitedly, "I got into the database. That unidentified man is - ."

"Neil Conway," he responded, kicking his bottom drawer closed.

"How did - ?" she stopped, wilting at his glare. "Okay."

"With me," Gibbs ordered, clipping his weapon to his belt as he marched towards the elevator. When he hit the partition, he became aware that Regina hadn't followed him. _"Zavoral, now." _

"Oh, you mean me," she laughed nervously, tripping over the chair as she jumped out from behind McGee's desk. Sprinting to match the team leader's long strides, she held her breath until the elevator doors closed. Gibbs hit the stop button and the elevator lurched under his feet. As the lights dimmed, Zavoral grabbed the handle on the wall. Pulling nervously at her ponytail, she exhaled slowly.

"Sir, what did - ?"

_Why did all those damn probationary agents act like he was so terrifying? _

_Was she even an official probationary agent? _

Wordlessly, he reached under his sport coat and passed her the spare Glock he'd removed from his desk. Her wide eyes fixed on the weapon for several long moments. As she frowned at him, the gun looked more cumbersome than it should be in her trembling hands.

"But, sir - ." When he narrowed his eyes at her, Regina paused, swallowing hard. "But Agent Gibbs, I haven't passed any firearms training yet. Regulations say - ."

_"We're done playing by the rules, Zavoral."_


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer : If you recognize it, I still don't own it.  
**

**Author's Note :** _Thanks to everyone following, favoriting and reading the story so far. As always extra thanks to **scousemuz1k, SkySpade, Maunzeli, angelscatie and a Guest** for leaving a review. Definitely appreciate the time you guys take to leave your thoughts. _

_To **John** - who left an unkind, anonymous review. I'm impressed you're still awake to leave a review on to chapter 15, if you're as bored as you say. As for the story being wordy, **it takes words to tell a story**. How many I choose to use is up to me. If you don't like what I've written, go find another story to read. Or better yet, why don't you write your own and post it on here for everyone to review?  
_

_Constructive criticism is always welcome, nasty criticism under the guise of constructive is not. _

_Have a new casefic that I'll be posting as a WIP in the next few weeks. The current storyline on the show is changing how I feel about the characters and I'm starting to not like them as much as I used to. I know that if I don't post it soon then I'll probably never get around to finishing it. If it's posted, then I'll force myself to finish..._

_Enjoy the newest chapter. _

_Except for you John : have a nice nap. _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**10:03pm – Just Outside Interrogation – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –**

"Just sign here to accept the prisoner transfer," Probationary Agent Todd Vierck stated, passing a clipboard into Regina's outstretched hand.

Zavoral pressed her lips together. Once her signature appeared on those forms, her career as an agent would be done before it began. Even though Gibbs assured her this was their best chance to bring Tim home alive, the process of signing away her future turned her stomach. All her years of hard work through college and the excitement of finally being accepted to FLETC after numerous applications. She blinked hard, trying not to think just how proud her father looked on the day she was awarded her badge.

_But what good was becoming a federal agent if she wouldn't even help one of her own? _

_As soon as she got home, she would write her resignation letter. Well, if she didn't end up in jail first. _

_She only hoped that her father would still be proud of her..._

"You okay?" Vierck asked, peering into Zavoral's pale, sweat slicked face.

"Y-y-yeah, oh yeah, of course, absolutely," she rambled, voice wavering. "A pen! Yeah, a pen. I just don't have a pen."

"Okay," he nodded, disinterestedly, as he passed the case agent a pen.

With a shaking hand, she carefully penned her full name onto the line. She pocketed the pen, fidgeting her hands while he checked over the paperwork. When he motioned towards her, Zavoral stared at him wide-eyed and prepared to confess their entire plan.

"Can I get my pen back?"

"Yeah, oh yeah, _definitely_," she nodded emphatically, passing him the writing implement.

Vierck rolled his eyes, heading into interrogation. Exhaling slowly as she realized the plan that she'd just set in motion, Zavoral mutely followed Todd. Sprawled across the interrogation table, Andy Newman appeared extremely uncomfortable while he tried to nap.

His head popped up, jumping between the two agents.

"What's going on?"

"Prisoner transfer," Vierck explained, sounding bored. "Stand up, hands behind your back."

"We're heading back to Norfolk until Agent Gibbs decides how to charge you," Zavoral nodded, trying to swallow her hesitation. As the suspect rose from the chair, Regina's heart skipped a beat.

"I didn't kill Levi," Newman protested, still following Vierck's order.

Todd clicked the handcuffs around Newman's wrists, the sound echoing through the hollow room. When she placed her hand on Andy's shoulder, Zavoral knew there was no turning back.

"You going to be okay getting back to Norfolk by yourself?" Vierck offered, merely to be polite.

"Yeah, we'll be fine." Regina unbuttoned her suit coat to let it cover the Glock stashed at the small of her back better.

"Good, he's all yours then," Todd smiled, his face relieved. Before she could change her mind, he scurried out of interrogation with his paperwork.

Placing an unsteady hand on Newman's shoulder, Zavoral guided him through the hallways into the elevator. The doors slid shut and she watched the numbers count their way down to the garage. With her heart pounding out of her chest, Regina ignored Newman's uncomfortable stare. She shifted her weight, uneasy at the cold metal that froze the skin on her back.

When the elevator stopped at the garage level, she led Newman to the Charger that she'd brought from Norfolk not even a day prior. As she pushed him into the backseat, she realized how much can change in twenty-four short hours. Tightening her ponytail, she sighed quietly and climbed into the driver's seat. She checked the rearview, nearly screaming when Newman's head appeared right beside her.

With his features tight, he frowned deeply.

"We're not going to Norfolk, are we?"

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**10:14pm – Boathouse – Somewhere Outside Washington, DC –**

Fingers trembling with effort, Tim McGee struggled to unwind the last piece of wire he needed to make a passage large enough for him to slip through. When his hands cramped again, he leaned back on his knees, sighing resignedly. The escape attempt was hard enough in the pitch dark. However, it'd been nearly impossible since the sensation gradually diminished in his phalanges over the hours. Without sight or touch, he couldn't confirm his progress until the wires dropped into his lap.

"Just a little more," he whispered, flexing his fingers as he begged his muscles to stop cramping.

Tim brought his hands to his face, blowing on his fingers as though it might actually help the numbness or the contractions. Even though he knew it wouldn't, he just had to try anyway. While he waited for the aching in his hands to pass, McGee's stomach growled loudly, alerting him to his need for nourishment.

"I know, soon," he promised.

_Great, he was alone in the dark, talking to himself. _

_What a way to help the situation. _

The organ roared again, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since the bagel earlier in the morning. _Before he'd even headed into the office_. He sighed quietly, ignoring the ache that started in his gut. Instead, he tested the space between the fence and the support beam. Even though it still wasn't big enough for him just yet, there was enough give in its movement to let him know that he was close with the final wire.

As Tim stretched after the last piece of metal, his head spun. Leaning forward, he steadied himself against the fence and breathed through the hunger pang. Waiting for its end, he could smell the stench of the canned spaghetti that Lewis and Abram had dropped off earlier. He glanced over his shoulder in the direction of the food, even though he couldn't see it he sure as hell couldn't miss the chemically processed stench wafting from the bowl. As he pressed his lips together, Tim debated about the next course of action. Shaking his head, he used his teeth to rip off the cap to his last water bottle. Downing half the liquid, he hoped that would fill him until he could get out and find help.

Breathing slowly, McGee squeezed his fingers around the last wire until he could feel it on his fingertips. He twisted the metal free, the blood starting to drip onto his pants. Finally, the wire landed into his lap.

"Thank G-d," he grinned, confirming that he'd fit through the space when an opportunity arose.

Noticing the light emanating from under the door and loud conversation from the other side, McGee opted to wait until later to make his escape. Sliding across the floor, he chose a spot on the wall to rest his aching head. He inhaled deeply, almost able to taste the slimy noodles and fake tomatoes. McGee's mouth watered.

_He had to be starving if that mess seemed even remotely appetizing. _

Ultimately deciding that he needed the fuel, Tim searched through the dark cell for the small bowl of food. When he finally found the nourishment, he fumbled with the plastic spoon and his bound hands. He swallowed the cold, congealed mass of spaghetti as best he could without tasting too much of its acidic flavor. Despite half of it landing on the floor, he still managed to finish enough to quiet his roaring stomach. Slightly more comfortable, Tim slid back to his spot on the wall. He finished the water, tossing the bottle away with a dull thud. McGee drew his knees to his chest, straining his ears to hear the men talking in the adjoining room.

Barely able to make out the three sets of voices, he could clearly hear Lewis' side of the conversation. While Maxwell discussed his choice in music, McGee shook his head, never pinning Lewis for a _Beyonce _fan, and leaned back against the wall. The dampness from the air soaked through his shirt and he shivered, dropping his head to his knees.

But when Lewis mentioned the Navy Yard and the bomb, Tim's head snapped up.

_That was it. The Navy Yard. The bomb was going to the Navy Yard. So many important aspects of the Navy all in one spot._

_USN JAG, The Naval Reactors, NCIS, USN's Sealift Command, USN Band, The Naval Historical Center. _

_The historical center was supposed to have the USS Southland as part of its exhibition on warships to celebrate its recent decommission. It would join the USS Barry until it headed to its permanent installation at the Maritime Museum in Norfolk. _

_Oh, G-d. The ships. _

_The Navy planned a press release for Tuesday morning at its arrival complete with newscasters, politicians and every ship-loving citizen. _

_They were going after civilians. _

Leaping to his feet, McGee pressed his lips together and glanced around the darkened room. He paced around the cell, waiting for his time to escape. His heart raced in his chest, skipping a beat before it slowed considerably.

_He had to get out and relay the information to Gibbs. He had to - . _

Tim's head started to spin again, pounding in time with his slow pulse. Losing his balance, he stumbled through the blackness before he collided with the wall. Unable to regain his equilibrium, he rode the roughness of the wood down until he connected the damp floor with a muted thud. His outstretched hands searched through the dark for the sleeping bag while McGee tried to fight the sudden fatigue. He yawned voraciously, bracing himself against the ground. Disorientation mounting, Tim searched until his forearms contacted the smooth nylon and he collapsed atop the sleeping bag.

_The food, oh shit, the food. He finally found out the target. He knew where the bomb was going. _

_All he had to do was stay awake. He just had to get to Gib - . _

McGee didn't even have time to formulate a plan before he passed out.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**11:51pm – Residence of Leroy Jethro Gibbs – Kingman Park, Washington, DC –**

As he leaned against the hull of the boat that took up most of his boss' basement, DiNozzo ran his hand over the rough, unpainted wood. Both he and Ziva silently watched Gibbs scrape his sandpaper over the project. The quiet scratching stopped long enough for the team leader to blow a wisp of sawdust away.

He glanced up at his agents.

_"What?" _

"Boss, do you mind explaining the plan to us again? Maybe with some details?" Tony exhaled slowly, still trying to make sense of his boss' earlier idea.

"Ask Newman where McGee is, then go get him," Gibbs shrugged, turning his attention back to the boat.

While Ziva shared a concerned look with Tony, she ran a hand over her ponytail.

"How shall we question him, Gibbs? He is at NCIS."

"Zavoral's bringing him here."

Without lifting his eyes, Gibbs switched out the grain of sandpaper and continued to work the same spot. As an awkward silence enveloped the trio, Gibbs' jaw clenched and his sanding became more aggressive. Tony raised his eyebrows at Ziva. When he realized that his boss wouldn't be forthcoming with information, DiNozzo grabbed a piece of discarded sandpaper off the ground and slid closer to Gibbs.

"Any reason?" DiNozzo fished, knowing there was something Gibbs hadn't told them.

"One of those guys is Homeland Security. Shepard benched us," the team leader growled, turning away from Tony.

"And McGee?"

_"Collateral damage." _

DiNozzo ran his hand over his face, finally understanding why Gibbs had attempted to keep them in the dark. If they disobeyed Shepard's direct order, there could be potentially catastrophic consequences for everyone involved. While defiance could end the team's career, a misstep by another agency could cost McGee his life. Exhaling slowly, DiNozzo stared back at Ziva's determined face. He pressed his lips together, crossing his arms, while he tried to comprehend the situation. When she nodded her assent, DiNozzo understood they all shared the same thought.

DiNozzo closed his eyes, shaking his head with a quiet laugh.

He should have known something cataclysmic was set in motion when Gibbs had invoked "Rule 45" on the phone earlier.

No details, no plans, just the rule and an order to meet at his house.

_Rule #45 – Always clean up your own mess. _

For all his years on the team, DiNozzo had never seen Gibbs breathe a word of any rule above 39. One night on an early case, Abby had mentioned those in the 40s were reserved for only the most dire circumstance.

_"It'll be a dark day," she'd said, voice uncharacteristically tense and fearful, "when Gibbs uses any rule from the forties. It's only happened once and when he was done a few agents had to retire early." _

Tony hadn't thought to press the forensic scientist for details at the time, never expecting to find himself in a situation that warranted their use. But based off Abby's unheeded warning, DiNozzo figured the team would be moving into uncharted territory.

_One of their own was missing. Gibbs wouldn't be one to wait on the sidelines. _

_Though so far, he'd convinced an impressionable, young case agent to abduct a suspect. Next he'd asked his team to infiltrate another agency's long-term undercover assignment without NCIS resources. _

_They were going rogue with a case agent. _

_The mess had a potential to get much bigger if they acted and deadly, if they didn't. _

_The terrified look in McGee's eyes as he was shuffled to the car couldn't be Tony's last memory of him._

"I'm in," Tony nodded, grinning when the team leader glared him down.

"I shall participate as well," Ziva volunteered, examining a parting tool.

Gibbs nodded, turning his attention back to the same spot on his boat.

_At this rate, the boat certainly wouldn't be seaworthy. _

"So how do we find out where they're keeping McGee?" DiNozzo asked again, needing to know the details of the plan that would end his career.

"I shall ask Newman," Ziva volunteered, gripping the tool's wooden handle tightly.

"Nice of you to offer, Zee-vah," Tony stated, "but maybe we should try a different tactic first. Boss, how do we get past Homeland Security? What about the bomb? How do we - ?"

_"I'm working on it," _Gibbs roared, dropping his voice when DiNozzo's questions ceased. "I'm working on it."

DiNozzo tried to swallow the butterflies that flapped in his stomach. Uncharacteristically concerned, Tony couldn't remember the last time he'd felt nervous before an operation.

Without another word, the team leader began sanding the same spot on the boat with a renewed vigor. Allowing his boss the space to think, DiNozzo moved to the opposite side of the boat and gazed over the relics of his boss' life that littered the work bench. Buried amidst the sawdust and tools, a tiny plastic pony caught Tony attention.

_Toys certainly seemed out of character for Gibbs, especially pink ones. _

When he started to ask its origin, Tony noticed a faded Father's Day card tacked to the wall behind the screw jars. Realizing he'd unwittingly stumbled into an unknown facet of his boss' life, DiNozzo frowned deeply.

Gibbs' phone rang, echoing from the spot he'd taken up under the hull.

"Gibbs. Yeah, come in through the front." The team leader popped out from under the boat, jabbing his finger towards his senior field agent. "Go help Zavoral, DiNozzo."

Nodding slowly, DiNozzo followed the order. He bounded up the stairs and rushed through the spartan kitchen, feeling like he'd trespassed into his boss' home. When he headed into the living room, he heard a dull crash in the hallway. Sprinting forward, he pulled out his Sig. With his eyes still adjusting to the darkened first floor, DiNozzo could make out a prone figure on the floor while another reeled its leg back.

"Bitch," Newman growled.

"Freeze," DiNozzo roared, stepping towards the suspect. "Leave her alone."

Newman rushed forward, colliding full-force with the senior agent. Not expecting the attack, DiNozzo dropped his gun. Andy lurched his head forward, impacting Tony's face hard enough to drop the senior agent to the ground. As the suspect readied to kick him, DiNozzo pulled Newman's support leg out from under him. Crashing to the ground, Andy landed partially on DiNozzo. Wind knocked out of him, Tony struggled to recover enough to overpower the suspect. Newman shifted, dropping the rest of his weight onto DiNozzo's chest.

"Time for a diet, Newman."

A knee to the gut left DiNozzo gasping for air.

Suddenly, a weight landed on both of them. Tony wheezed, trying to push the newest addition to his chest off. When a gun grazed his cheek, DiNozzo's muscles tensed. The overhead light flicked on and Tony blinked hard, seeing the light glint off a weapon in Zavoral's hand. Rolling his eyes, he adjusted her aim onto Newman.

As Andy relaxed against the floor, Gibbs slowly shook his head.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer : If you recognize it, I still don't own it.  
**

**Author's Note :** _As always, thanks to the readers, favoriters and followers. Extra thanks to **puppypants, jmsings, angelscatie, Maunzeli and scousemuz1k **for taking time to leave reviews. I truly do appreciate the time you guys take to leave your thoughts. _

_I love hearing from you guys. _

_Random music suggestion (because I can) : American Authors - "Believer" _

_No reviews on the latest show. Hoping the hiatus will get me excited about NCIS again. _

_Enjoy Thursday's update. _

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**Monday, October 2, 2006 - 1:11am – Residence of Leroy Jethro Gibbs – Kingman Park, Washington, DC –**

Shifting his weight in the uncomfortable kitchen chair, DiNozzo watched Zavoral's features tense as she stared at ancient computer on the table in front of her. Regina rapped her knuckles on the housing, making a face at the echo on the plastic. When Gibbs had originally unearthed the ancient laptop out of the crawl space in his basement, Regina had laughed heartily at the layer of dust he'd blown off it. Though when he'd pushed it into her hands, ordering her to find additional information about Harrison, she'd looked at him as though he were insane.

"He actually expects me to use this, doesn't he?" she asked, shaking her head.

Unable to answer her question, DiNozzo headed to the counter to grab them both a cup of coffee. He wondered how to tell her they'd actually solved crimes with even less than that, not that it would even help. As she dropped her cellphone onto the table, Regina smiled at the mug Tony placed in front of her.

"Any milk or sugar?" she asked.

DiNozzo pulled open his boss' cupboards, only to find bare shelves. Pressing his lips together, he checked the fridge to find a carton of milk that had expired in August.

Tony hated to admit that he wasn't surprised.

"That milk's probably cheese by now, Reg. Still interested?"

"I think I'll pass," she frowned, trying a sip of the black coffee.

As he slid a chair next to her, she sputtered back into the cup.

"What the fu - ?"

"Coffee beans courtesy of Gibbs. Rumor has it that he's never found a roast dark enough, so he finishes the job himself," DiNozzo grinned, staring at an unfamiliar interface that appeared on the screen. "So what are you doing?"

"Well, the computer's not as bad as I thought. Right now, I'm using its modem to connect to the - ," Zavoral started, pausing when Tony's eyes glazed over. "I can connect the computer to my phone to the internet. Even though this laptop is really, _really_ old, it _was_ the top of the line back in its day so this might just work."

DiNozzo nodded, flabbergasted by the fact that Gibbs owned what could once be considered an impressive piece of technology.

_He must have gotten it as a gift or maybe he stole it from NCIS when they had that big technology push a few years back. _

Touching his hand to the back of his head, DiNozzo climbed out of his chair and began to slowly pace the length of the counter. He took a long swig of the coffee in his hand, retching at the overly acidic taste. When he got to the basement door, he paused, listening hard to Newman's interrogation.

He heard nothing, but the click of Regina's typing.

He'd been shocked when Gibbs ordered him to sit out Newman's questioning session. Though as a former cop, Tony knew law enforcement's regulations and procedure better than anyone in the house. He had a feeling that what was transpiring in the basement was certainly well out of the realm of protocol.

That was a line that Tony wouldn't be able cross, even if Tim's life depended on it.

_Ziva and Gibbs floated through the mire much easier than he did. _

"What do you think they're doing?" Regina asked suddenly, interrupting DiNozzo's thoughts.

"Don't know, don't ask. Plausible deniability," DiNozzo said quietly, studying the chipped paint on the basement door.

"Do you - ?"

"If you want out, Reg, now would be the time."

She pressed her hands to her cheeks, as though trying to wake herself. When it didn't appear to happen, she shook her head and blinked slowly.

"What happens to Tim?"

"Not sure," DiNozzo shrugged. "He's out there somewhere. The only way we might find him is from Newman or that computer. But even that's a long-shot."

"Won't we get fired over this?" Regina questioned, clicking through something on the laptop.

"Probably, but all of us can get another job, Reg. McGee doesn't get another life. You still in?"

Regina's frown deepened, her eyes dropping back to the screen.

"Yeah, I'm in. But do you think you could check on - ?" Her voice trailed off. "I can't think, knowing that - ."

"Yeah, me neither," Tony agreed, scooping his mug off the counter as an excuse.

He opened the door, pausing while he expected screams courtesy of Ziva to echo from the depths of the basement. When he still didn't hear any noise, he forced a smile for Zavoral and slowly descended the stairs.

Nothing prepared him for what he saw.

Comfortably perched on a stool, Newman clutched a jar of bourbon in his unbound hands. A few feet away, Gibbs leaned against the boat hull and held his own drink. Ziva sat at the base of the stairs, sharpening one of Gibbs' tools against a stone.

As Tony did a double-take between the pair, Andy threw his head back in laughter.

_Just what the hell was going on? _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**4:17am - Boathouse – Somewhere Outside Washington, DC -**

McGee roused slowly, bewildered by the absolute darkness of his bedroom. Enough ambient light usually peeked through the blinds of his bedroom to let him see the rough outline of his writing desk. For some reason, he couldn't make out anything in the pitch-dark and he wondered whether he'd lost power again. The summer's rolling blackouts had left his room dark more times than he could remember.

Shaking his head to clear the strange dream he'd been having, he reached after the flashlight in his nightstand. He missed his mark, rolling onto the floor and landing on his bound hands. As he ran his fingers over the unfinished wood, he realized that the bomb plot and his abduction weren't a dream. Everything from the undercover operation to the bomb plot was actually happening.

_It hadn't been a byproduct of an intense case, too little sleep and his overzealous imagination. _

_He really had been taken hostage. _

Scrambling off the floor, Tim stumbled a few steps as he tried to press his hands to his pounding head. McGee inhaled slowly, filling his lungs with the musty air that clung with the scent of stale river water. When he finally remembered his escape plan, he slid through the darkness until he found the opening in the fence he'd created earlier.

Not having the time to consider how awful he felt, Tim ducked through the chain link fence. He didn't even take the chance to celebrate his new-found freedom before he realized that he'd only managed to solve half the problem. Outside of the storage unit, but still inside the room. With the direct route to the outside through the room full of his sleeping captors, his only other option seemed to be busting through one of the solid walls.

McGee pressed his lips together, glancing to where the door stood to one of the walls. Figuring he didn't have it in him to put a hole in the wall, he slid to the door that led into the living quarters. His hands gripped the doorknob as he listened for any sound on the other side, hearing only the echoing racket of someone's snoring.

He hiccuped, trying to quash his anxiety.

_He'd never had the practice of learning how to sneak out of his parents' house as a teenager. The first and only time he actually tried, he'd made it out of his window and off the roof, triumphantly sliding into his car only to find his father in the backseat. Tim didn't see the outside of his bedroom until he left for MIT. _

_Seemed a shame he never had the guts to try again. _

Tim's stomach bubbled with the memory. Knowing that he'd never be completely ready, McGee held his breath and slipped through the door. He moved slowly through the room, rolling onto the balls of his feet with each step.

The raucous breathing suddenly stopped and McGee froze, certain that he'd been caught. After a low cough and the creak of an old mattress, the heavy snores restarted.

Tim barely exhaled.

He pushed forward, slipping through the door that led to the main room with the boat. As he continued through the dark, a strange noise piqued his interest. He paused again, listening hard until he recognized the quiet lapping of the water against the boat hull.

_If he wasn't so terrified, the noise might actually be soothing. _

With the moonlight drifting through the window, Tim could see the outlines of the boat, a few piles and most reassuringly, the door. His sight set on the way to freedom and he pushed forth, already contemplating how he'd find a phone to contact the team. As soon as his hands caught the doorknob, his ankle tapped something in a massive mound of boat paraphernalia.

Tim held his breath, sliding his foot away slowly. Every part of him hoped that the pile stayed steadfast.

A loud crash echoed through the boathouse.

McGee cringed.

_"Wake up. Somebody's out there,"_ someone shouted in the adjoining room.

Not needing to find out who he'd disturbed, McGee kicked open the door. He sprinted down the dock, no destination in mind, his footsteps echoing hollowly beneath him. Just on the other side of the river, the lights of downtown Washington burned bright in the night, tiny beacons reminding Tim of how close he truly was to home.

_Away, he just had to get away from these men. _

_Where he ended, who helped him, none of it mattered, as long as he got away. _

"Hey, cop! Stop!"

_Like hell, he planned to listen to that one. _

When a gunshot cracked behind him, McGee instinctively covered his head with his forearms. Maybe whoever shot at him probably didn't realize that was something to spur him forward, force him to move faster. Tim pushed himself harder, unable to ignore the sound of the three sets of gaining footsteps.

Just as he hit the end of the dock, something caught Tim around the knees, taking him down to the cold, sandy ground. He rolled on his back, kicking out at the weight that landed on top of him. His knee connected with a soft body, eliciting a loud exhale from his attacker. Before he could launch another hit, a punch to the face disoriented Tim. He barely managed to shake it off, pushing his bound hands onto the body's chest. When a gun pressed underneath his jaw, McGee released his grasp and slumped against the ground, breathing hard. Even in the dark, McGee could see the hatred burning in Abram's eyes.

"How the hell did he get out?" Abram growled, turning his head to look at Lewis and Conway.

"I don't know," Lewis panted, leaning on his knees several feet way. "There's no way he should've - ."

"Well, he's out here now," Abram stated, jamming his gun deeper into McGee's jaw.

Tim shuddered, closing his eyes. His mind flipped to his team, his mother, his sister, even his father and his ex-girlfriend, all the people he'd never get to say goodbye to before Abram put a bullet in his brain.

"Look, I sure as hell didn't let him out. I don't know how he - ," Lewis paused, waving his hands as though he tried to piece together a plausible explanation. "Conway - ?"

"What?" Neil wheezed, hunched over on his knees.

"Did you help him?"

"That's a joke, right?" Neil rose, cautiously crossing his arms.

"It makes sense, you know? You didn't want to bring the cop, and then you wouldn't do your part until we fed him. It makes sense that you might help him get out while we're all asleep."

Neil laughed hysterically, stopping short when the other two didn't join in. Tim blinked his eyes open, staring intently at Conway's darkened form against the glittering city lights. When McGee tried to shift under Abram's weight, a knee to the side ended what little fight he had left.

"_No freaking way._ You two kidnapped the fed, he's your problem," Conway protested.

"You know Conway," Lewis nodded, voice thoughtful, "I'm surprised you'd call him our problem. Aren't you one of his friends?"

"Friends? _Friends_?! _What the hell are you talking about?"_ Neil retorted, posture stiffening as he backpedaled onto the dock.

Lewis reached into his pocket and tossed a small black object at Conway's feet. McGee instantly recognized the standard-issue federal badge folder identical to the one he'd left in his desk.

_"Maxwell? What the hell is going on?"_ Abram spoke up.

"Homeland Security." Lewis retrieved a weapon from the small of his back. "That's what's goin' on."

"Conway?" Tim yelped, reeling when Abram smashed the gun across his face.

Stars exploded in his vision and his left temple burned, blood blossoming from the strike.

"Look, Lewis, don't be a freaking idiot," Neil ordered, no longer meek nor milquetoast. "Just cut your damn losses, let Agent McGee go and surrender before this shit gets anymore out of hand that it already has. I've already told my handler every damn detail."

Lewis rubbed his hand along his chin, pretending to consider the Homeland Security agent's offer.

"You haven't done shit yet. Plotting the attack will cost you twenty; going through with it will get you the freaking needle."

"How about killing a fed?" Abram growled, glaring down at McGee.

Tim's gaze jerked away and he studied the stars, tiny pinpricks barely visible underneath the light pollution of Washington.

_"Death penalty. _If you shoot me or him, Lewis, I have a lot of friends that'll be gunning for your worthless asses."

"Bring it, Conway."

A gunshot shattered the early morning stillness. Seconds later, Tim heard the heavy splash of a body being swallowed by the Anacostia. He lurched upward, colliding heavily with Abram.

_"Conway!" _

Abram slammed his gun across McGee's face again, dropping the now unconscious agent to the ground.

"Guess we'll just see if your buddies come looking, Conway," Lewis remarked, swiveling back towards Abram and McGee. "Don't worry though, we'll be ready."


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer : Again nothing is mine except for the odd OC...yes, they are odd.  
**

**Author's Note : **_As always thanks to everyone who's reading, favoriting and following this story so far. Extra thanks to **angelscatie, scousemuz1k, DS2010, jmsings, Maunzeli and Precious Pup **for taking the time to leave reviews. I appreciate reading your thoughts. _

_All locations of places and descriptions of neighborhoods are based on what I can find on wikipedia, a map of the greater DC, vague details from the show and several books I've read that are set in DC. _

_I did absolutely zero research on bomb construction, so bear with me if it's inaccurate. There are things that I don't want to know and research that I don't want to complete. _

_Enjoy the random Saturday update. _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**5:48am - Residence of Leroy Jethro Gibbs – Kingman Park, Washington, DC –**

Drumming his fingers on the cool surface of Gibbs' kitchen table, DiNozzo peeked at the illuminated screen of Zavoral's laptop. With her attention captivated by the information in front of her, Regina obsessively flicked between cross-referencing her property search and the ongoing e-mail conversation with Abby Scuito. Every so often, she'd rapidly type some tidbits in a spreadsheet that contained all her information.

Unable to focus on the constantly switching screens, Tony dropped his gaze to the table. After he'd been ordered out of Gibbs and Ziva's interrogation, he'd figured that Zavoral should at least need his assistance. Though listening to her active work, it had taken seconds for him to realize that she didn't need his help at all. DiNozzo flattened his palms against the white Formica, refusing to admit just how useless he felt.

_McGee was out there somewhere. _

_Gibbs and Ziva were interrogating Newman. Regina had some crazy internet search complete with a spreadsheet and corresponding word processing document._

_ And him?_

Sighing resignedly, Tony kicked his chair back and started after another cup of coffee. Concentration broken, Regina frowned at the three half-full mugs in front of her.

"Tony, I can't take anymore."

"Not for you, Reg," he laughed, gesturing towards the basement door while he filled another mug.

"You really think he'll let you stay this time?"

"Fifth time's the charm."

"I thought it was third," Zavoral queried, flicking her exhausted eyes to DiNozzo.

"Unless you're dealing with Gibbs."

Tony headed towards the basement, wondering exactly what his boss could be discussing without him present. Gibbs and Ziva had been cloistered down there with Newman going on a few hours now. The complete silence made DiNozzo uneasy. If there had been shouting, he'd at least know what to expect.

He paused by the door, readying himself for whatever might be at the bottom of the stairs this time.

_With all he'd heard about Ziva's interrogation skills, he'd never had the opportunity to see them firsthand. _

_Up until now, he'd never needed to. _

Finally prepared for the trek, DiNozzo inhaled deeply and wrapped his hand around the knob. Before he could turn it, the door swung open, hitting the senior agent directly in the face. Tony blinked slowly, staring at the coffee and remains of his boss' grey NIS mug on the floor.

"Hiya, boss, just thought you might need coffee," DiNozzo grinned.

"Tastes better in a cup, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled, narrowing his eyes when the senior agent grabbed a towel off the wall behind him.

"To each his own," DiNozzo shrugged, crouching to clean up the mess. After he swept the pieces of ceramic into the trashcan, he joined his boss at the kitchen table.

Leaned over Zavoral's shoulder, Gibbs watched the case agent's progress while she hunched closer to the computer. She clicked quickly on the keyboard, trying not to look at Gibbs out of the corner of her eye. When Tony approached, she glanced at him helplessly.

"So, boss, did Newman know anything?" Tony asked, inspecting his boss' hands from afar.

He was surprised they were free of blood.

_Didn't mean Ziva's were clean…_

"Nothing. Pissed when he found out he's the fall guy."

DiNozzo almost missed the surprised look on his boss' face when he noticed the laptop was connected to Zavoral's phone.

"So?"

"Tell me something, Zavoral," Gibbs nodded, keeping his attention on the case agent.

"Well, sir, er – uh, yeah, Gibbs, I checked the property holdings for both Lewis and Abram. Neither man has anything in either theirs or their family names. They also didn't have the individual funds to procure any significant properties. When I checked Sunshine Harrison's holdings, I only found the single family home where she currently resides. However, there - ," Regina rambled, pointing to the computer monitor.

"Reg," Tony warned, jutting his chin out at Gibbs' angry face.

Laughing nervously, Regina made a face and pulled at her ponytail. When she tapped Gibbs' shoulder, her body stiffened, eyes growing wide at DiNozzo.

"Yeah, I found - . There's a bunch of - ," she sputtered, blushing. "I found a bunch of property holdings for the _Put Earth Before Yourself _environmental group. There's three apartments, two office buildings, four storage facilities, and one private marina where Sunshine keeps her company's sailboat. I'm not entirely convinced that it's legal to list a personal item as a business expense like that."

"Let the IRS worry about that," Gibbs nodded, sliding around the table.

Nodding at DiNozzo, he mutely asked his senior agent to weigh in.

"No way would they take the risk of a bomb and a hostage in an office building unless they're stupid. Crazy, maybe, but definitely not stupid," Tony noted, crossing his arms while Gibbs leaned against the table. "Where are those storage units, Reg?"

"Well, their main office building is in Columbia Heights. Three of their storage facilities are within walking distance, while their other one is in Georgetown by the satellite office. Do you think that's where they're - ?" Regina started, unable to finish her thought.

Running his hand over the back of his neck, Tony debated about the moderately sized neighborhood in the northwest section of the city. He'd recently taken a date into the area to check out the budding nightlife. From what he could remember, he just didn't think the recipient of a budding urban reclamation project, with its decreased crime rate and influx of Metro cops, lent itself particularly well to a bomb plot. It also didn't help that the landlocked district was extremely far from the Navy Yard. Of course they didn't know where the bomb was supposed to be placed yet, but they assumed it to be somewhere involving the Navy.

"Where's the marina?" Gibbs asked, evidently sharing the same thought as DiNozzo.

"Right off 295 in Greenway," Zavoral stated. "Sunshine's got about four acres of private land there."

"Greenway?" DiNozzo repeated, raising his eyebrows at his boss.

"What's that?" Regina questioned, unfamiliar with the name.

"Slums on the Anacostia," Gibbs explained, his face indicating they'd finally found the location.

"Residents are less likely to report crime. There's a very small police presence. Plus you get the bonus of a straight shot into Capitol Hill or the Navy Yard off 295," DiNozzo agreed, shaking his head. "What's the plan, boss?"

Equally interested, Regina pressed the laptop closed and anxiously studied Gibbs' face.

"Show up and offer Newman for McGee," Gibbs stated, pushing past Tony towards the coffeemaker.

"Knock on the door and see if they'll trade? Just like that?" DiNozzo asked, trying to ignore Regina's incredulous look.

"Just like that," Gibbs nodded, pulling open his cupboard. _"DiNozzo, where the hell are all the mugs?" _

___-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**6:12am – Sunshine Harrison's Private Marina – Greenway District, Washington, DC –**

The lapping of water against a solid object was the first thing Tim McGee heard as he began to slowly rouse. When he tried to rub the dullness from his head, he pulled on his hands, unable to move them from their position behind his head. Straining his fingers, he felt a piece of hardwood and realized that his hands were attached to some random piece of boating equipment in the main room. The junior agent breathed slowly, trying to regain his senses.

"Looks like he's awake," Maxwell Lewis announced.

Tim relaxed again, deciding not to provoke his captors. While he pretended to be unconscious, his arms started to ache from supporting his weight and he held back a grimace. McGee hazarded a slid-lidded survey of the boat room, noticing Lewis and James Abram knelt beside a large, plastic-wrapped package.

"Not with how hard I hit him. I bet he'll be out for a while." Abram laughed, studying a book laid flat on the ground. When he examined an aspect of the package, he flipped through the pages, running his finger over the words as he searched for something specific.

"So what'd Conway screw up?" Lewis growled.

"Don't know yet."

Remembering Neil's uncertain fate several hours earlier, McGee ground his teeth. Finally tasting whatever was embedded on the gag, he heaved at the metallic taste. Tim tried to fight the wave of nausea that he knew could prove lethal. Squeezing his eyes shut, he breathed slowly for several minutes and focused on the flicking of pages and scraping of plastic while his captors attempted to determine the sabotage.

"We know the explosives are good since I made those," Abram brainstormed aloud, pointing to each component of their bomb. "Wires aren't in the appropriate places, no big deal to rewire this thing. The detonator is okay, wait a second, _damn it, _Conway switched out the blasting cap."

"What?" Lewis sounded incredulous as he rose from the floor.

"Yeah, remember that fancy-ass pen Conway accused me of stealing," Abram laughed, rifling through the plastic wrap. "Well, I found it. Looks real close to the cap, doesn't it?"

"Bastard," Lewis cursed, kicking something into the water with a quiet splash. "Can you fix it?"

"Yeah, but it won't be pretty. Just get my stuff."

"I don't think she cares what it looks like as long as it goes boom," Lewis shrugged, his heavy footsteps creaking on the floor as he approached McGee. Crouching right next to Tim's side, Maxwell started to dig through a bag.

_She? She? _

_There was someone else involved? _

_Who was she? Who could - ?_

While he dug through Abram's pack, Lewis dropped something and it rolled away, stopping on McGee's leg. Maxwell reached after it, accidentally grazing Tim's side during his pursuit. Too involved in his recollection of the case to maintain his charade, Tim flinched and let out a muffled yelp.

"Morning, cop, how's the head?" Lewis grinned wickedly, grabbing McGee's chin to check his alertness.

Biting on the gag, Tim summoned the best glare he could muster. Maxwell pushed him away, laughing as he rose from the floor. Carrying a small bag of silver objects and Abram's backpack, Lewis headed toward his partner while Tim straightened up to watch them work.

_On the bright side, the change in position helped relieve the pain in his arms. _

_Who the hell was he kidding? _

_There was no bright side. _

"Better get comfortable, cop," Lewis nodded, "we've got some work to do."

Tim's newest glare went ignored as Abram plucked a blasting camp from the bag. Every time he examined one, he would mutter a curse and throw it to the ground with a quiet clink.

"What's wrong?"

"Conway poked a hole in them to drain the accelerant," Abram explained, now surrounded by blasting caps.

"And for those of us who know jack shit about this stuff, that means - ?"

"No boom."

_Thank G-d, Conway managed to stop them. _

_Not that Tim could do anything, he couldn't even save himself. _

Tim exhaled slowly, finally finding a purchase point to see if he could free his hands. When he wrenched his arms forward, there was no give from the object. He yanked again, grimacing at the crack of something in his right shoulder instead.

"Son of a bitch," Lewis roared, kicking a pile of rope. Eyes burning with hatred, he glanced over at McGee as though he'd found a new target for his aggression. He stepped menacingly towards the junior agent. Tim tried to glare back defiantly, barely able to hide the tendril of fear that licked through him.

"Wait a second, Lewis," Abram held a blasting cap up, "this one has a little bit still in it. Should work enough to ignite the C4."

"Can you put it back together?"

"Yeah, I think so, but it won't be reliable enough to detonate remotely. It'd have to be set off manually, but we can't - ."

"I think we might just be able to make that work," Lewis grinned, predatory glare finding McGee.

_Detonate the bomb manually? How would they make it work? _

_There were only two of them, it would be a suicide miss -. _

_Oh shit. Son of a bitch. Moth - . _

Tim glanced up at Lewis, their eyes meeting for a split second. Not wishing to give the other man any satisfaction with his terror, McGee flicked his gaze up to the window. The morning's first rays had just started to stream through the grimy panes, leaving their trails over his outstretched legs.

Before his eyes, the morning light brightened slowly, signaling the start of a new day.

Tim wondered if he'd live to see another one.


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer : Again nothing is mine except for the odd OC...yes, they are odd.  
**

**Author's Note : **_Thanks to all the new favoriters, followers and readers. As always extra thanks to **scousemuz1k, DS2010 and a Guest **for taking the time to leave a review. Much appreciated. _

_I updated on Saturday, not sure if the e-mail went out since I didn't get my carbon copy alert. Either way, be sure to read that chapter too. _

_Shorter one today. Considerably more action in the coming chapters, promise. _

_Enjoy this one. _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**6:38am – Greenway District, Washington, DC –**

Clutching the handle of the passenger door for dear life, Tony DiNozzo watched the decrepit row houses whiz past the window. As they drew closer to the river, the habitability of the homes plummeted, leaving shells of walls that barely remained standing. The number of boarded houses increased remarkably as did the grassless lawns and cars that probably no longer functioned. When Jethro Gibbs cut the wheel violently around a corner, narrowly missing an unsupervised boy on a tricycle, DiNozzo knew there would be no cops here to stop them.

_Most of Metro didn't waste their time in this district. Since its drugs and crime were self-contained, the police force only pursued the criminal activity that spilled over into Capitol Hill. _

"Which way, Zavoral?" Gibbs barked, glaring into the rearview mirror.

Pressing himself deeper into the seat, DiNozzo silently implored his boss to keep his eyes on the road.

"Left at the stop sign," Regina Zavoral reported, relaying the directions from her phone. "Two more blocks and we'll be at the edge of Harrison's property."

The engine roared in response to Gibbs trouncing on the accelerator. DiNozzo braced himself for the moment that the team leader skidded to a stop at the end of the row houses. In perfectly executed motion, Gibbs threw the car into park and checked on his hodgepodge rescue team. Tony exhaled for the first time since they left Gibbs' house.

"Just to make sure we're clear," Andy Newman chimed in, leaning forward from his position in the middle seat. "If I help, I don't go to Guantanamo Bay, right? Since I'm helping and_ I'm not a terrorist_, I can go to regular jail, right? I really - ."

"I don't care what happens to you after this," Gibbs stated flatly, raising his hand to silence Newman.

Placing his hand on his chin, Andy nodded thoughtfully at the newest piece of information. Gibbs reached into his coat pocket, producing four ancient-looking ear wigs. DiNozzo took the proffered piece of technology that his boss probably lifted from Soviet spy right before the end of the Cold War. He shook his head at the tiny antenna protruding from the bulky earwig.

_When he put that in his ear, he'd look like something out of a 1950s B-list horror movie. _

_Robot Agents from the Planet NCIS. _

"Where'd you dig these up, boss? Yard sale?" DiNozzo quipped, frowning when Gibbs glared at him.

"Why would one sell their yard?" Ziva David questioned, carefully loading her back-up clip.

"You sell stuff in your y-ya- uh yeah, nevermind," Regina started, pausing when Gibbs' glare found her instead.

"How the hell do you not know about yard sales?" Newman asked.

_"Enough," _Gibbs snapped.

"Can we review the plan one more time, boss?"

"You go in and try to negotiate with these guys," Gibbs explained, shoving the earwig into his ear. "Ziva and I will move in once you've got eyes on McGee, we clear?"

"Yes," Zavoral nodded.

"Yes, Gibbs."

"Got it, boss," DiNozzo nodded, sliding out of the car.

_Figured Gibbs would send him in first to try to reason with Abram and Lewis. _

_The boss probably hoped that he could defuse the situation with words since Ziva and Gibbs would put the suspects into body bags instead. _

Crossing his arms, he stopped at the view of the city from the end of the road. The sun's deep orange of the sun's first light peeking from behind Washington's skyscrapers, their reflection shimmering in the water of the Anacostia. The scenery might be picturesque if it weren't a prelude to their raid. Leading the team to the end of the road's asphalt, Gibbs ducked onto a gravel path that cut through a small patch of trees. Ziva gestured towards a federal issue van that guarded the entrance to the property.

"Gibbs, there is company," she whispered.

"Yeah, Homeland Security," Gibbs nodded.

"Um, sir, er, Gibbs," Zavoral cleared her throat, drawing attention to herself, "is there anything you wanted me to do? You know I can't shoot this."

She frowned deeply, staring hopelessly at the Glock in her hand.

"Why don't you go learn?" he asked, gesturing toward the van with his head.

"Agent Gibbs?"

"Go ask the agents in the van to show you how to use the gun?" he suggested, unholstering his Sig.

"Okay, I get it. The distraction, I think I can do that," she laughed, starting off towards the van.

"Hey, Reg, wait a second." Before she turned around, Tony grabbed her hairtie, shaking her long blonde hair loose. "Undo a couple more buttons and those guys'll never even know that we're here."

She followed his advice, unhooking the top few buttons and shaking her hair over her shoulders. DiNozzo obviously took in a preview of her assets and grinned at her, slightly surprised when she winked at him.

"Tony, please be careful," Regina dropped her voice and grabbed his forearm.

"You too, Reg, y_ou know how those Homeland Security guys can be."_

___-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**6:57am – Just Outside Sunshine Harrison's Marina – Greenway District, Washington, DC -**

After Zavoral had headed off to the Homeland Security van for an impromptu firearms lesson, the agents and Newman had ducked under the cover of the tree line, following a small path to the grassy shore of the Anacostia. The delicate morning light reflected off the choppy waters, leaving the sun's tendrils to be broken by the barges navigating the waterway. A chilly breeze blew in, still heavy with the sleep from the city, and Tony buttoned his suitcoat. Just up ahead, the expansive wood boathouse waited for them at the end of a short dock. Under the morning light, the building appeared as unobtrusive as the sailboat that it reportedly housed. But when DiNozzo thought about what might be occurring under that roof, the building took on another, more terrifying life.

With Gibbs leading the way, the quartet pressed onward, destination and their missing teammate finally in sight. With his gun's familiar weight in his hand, the grip worn smooth from years of use both off and on the firing range, Tony only hoped they were in time to help McGee.

Newman exhaled loudly, gesturing his hands in an act of contrition.

_"I swear to G-d, I'm not a terrorist. I didn't know what they were planning," _Andy pleaded again.

"Your actions mismatch your words," Ziva stated, drawing up the rear of the group.

"Yeah, but - ."

Before Newman could finish his thought, a figure leaped out from behind a tree, the blur tackled Gibbs to the ground. Ziva and DiNozzo rushed forward, pulling the surprisingly damp assailant off of their boss. Breathing hard, he glared at the three agents holding their weapons at him.

"Boss, you're bleeding." DiNozzo pointed to smear of red on Gibbs' shirt.

"Not me."

The team leader gestured to his attack, a young, brown-haired man who pressed his hand deeply into his left shoulder. The man struggled to a sitting position, narrowing his light eyes at the agents. His features seemed familiar to DiNozzo, but the senior agent couldn't seem to place the face.

"Are you bastards with them?"

"Agent Conway?!" Gibbs asked, finally helping Tony place the face of the third man from McGee's abduction.

_"Yeah, who the hell are you?" _

"NCIS," Gibbs explained, displaying his badge while the others holstered their weapons.

"You're McGee's people, sir? I'm sorry about that but I thought Lewis had more friends. I'm surprised you guys showed up before mine. But then again, my team's always been shit, sir," Conway laughed, pressing his hand deeper against the blood that flowed from his shoulder.

"McGee still alive?"

"Yes, sir, last I saw him this morning, about four hours ago, give or take. But Lewis was pretty pissed off when he shot me. I haven't heard any gunshots or anything, sir, so I assume he should still be alive," Neil shrugged his shoulders, the blood oozing between his fingers. Several feet away, Newman dropped to his knees, heaving his stomach contents into the grass under Ziva's watchful eye.

"What happened?" DiNozzo questioned, ignoring Andy's heaves.

"Delancey and her damned protocol happened, sir. Snuck my badge into my bag before my assignment and I guess Lewis found it. Who'd have seen that one coming?" Conway growled sarcastically.

Gibbs smiled knowingly, nodding his sympathy.

"So why didn't you - ?"

"Waiting for my people to realize I'm going to miss my next check-in, sir. I needed to stay and keep an eye on Lewis' activity, sir. Homeland Security taught me to never lose a suspect. Corps taught me to never leave a man behind."

"Iraq?" Gibbs nodded.

"Afghanistan, sir. The bullet I took during my second tour brought me home early. Compared to that one, this is just a scratch."

"What we dealing with, Conway?" Gibbs asked, glancing down the dock at the boathouse.

"I put together the bomb myself, sir," Conway explained. "Misconnected the wires and switched out the blasting cap so it should be inoperable. Abram made the explosives, so they're real. He's got some limited explosives training, not enough to put it together himself, but maybe enough to figure out what I did wrong."

"So it could be live?"

_McGee and a live bomb. Oh shit. _

"Might be, if they figured out what I did. That's a pretty big if, sir. You should know there are two of them. One large for the main target and another one in a backpack for the getaway. Lewis never said anything about the target to me, sir. Does your team have a plan?"

"Yeah," Gibbs nodded, smirking at DiNozzo. "Get McGee out and stop the bastards. How's that sound?"

Stepping around Gibbs and Neil, DiNozzo waved Newman forward so they could finalize their approach to the boathouse. Conway looked up at the team leader, grinning momentarily before a wave of pain left him shaking.

"Like music to my ears, sir."


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer : If you recognize it, I still don't own it.  
**

**Author's Note : **_Thanks to all the readers, favoriters and followers. As always, extra thanks for **AgentD.6, scousemuz1k, Maunzeli, Acrwdof1, angelscatie and starfire25 **for taking the time to leave your thoughts. I love seeing what you guys think. _

_Got nothing for the season finale. Still undecided about the next one. _

_Enjoy the new chapter. _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**7:11am – Just Outside Sunshine Harrison's Marina – Greenway District, Washington, DC –**

With the antenna from Gibbs' Soviet-era earwig protruding from his ear, Tony felt more space-alien robot than the very special agent that he truly was. He walked slowly up the dock towards the boat house, his footsteps echoing on the weather-beaten wood. Every step brought him closer to an impending confrontation that Gibbs expected him to be able to control.

At the thought of McGee's life on the line with his words, his pulse quickened. Trying to a better subject, DiNozzo figured a robot might be better suited for the mission.

_The lack of emotions would save them all now. _

"So, your boss really isn't going to send me to Guantanamo Bay, right?" Newman broached, darting nervously in front of Tony while they continued down the dock.

His gaze locked ahead, staring intently at the well-worn door, Tony shrugged and ignored Andy's earnest question. The other man exhaled loudly, sliding into step with DiNozzo. On the edge of the dock, a seagull abandoned its breakfast when Newman passed.

"Do you think your boss could at least drop the terrorism charges? I'm really not a terrorist, you know. _You all know that._I didn't kill anyone and I sure as hell didn't kill Levi. I didn't even know they killed until you guys told me. I just - ," Newman rambled, sweat pouring off his face.

When the perspiration soaked the collar of his designer shirt, DiNozzo wondered whether Andy knew it would permanently stain the Armani silk. When Newman dried his hand on the front of himself, Tony decided that the truth might send him into the Anacostia.

_"DiNozzo," _Gibbs growled through the earwig.

"On it, boss." Tony froze, meeting Andy's wide eyes. "Honestly, Newman, I have no idea what happens to you after this. But you helped us and if it goes well, there might be special circumstances that could help your case. You didn't kill anyone _yet_."

Andy nodded slowly, appreciating the sudden honesty.

_"Can we go now?"_ DiNozzo gestured towards the boathouse.

While Andy nodded again, Tony glanced over his shoulder, watching Gibbs and Ziva get into position at the end of the dock. As part of Gibbs' well-constructed plan, DiNozzo and Newman would knock on the door, rile up Abram and Lewis just enough that they'd ready to move out, and allow the other agents to apprehend the pair on their escape.

It seemed simple enough to work, in theory only, Tony didn't know how predictable it would be in its application. But if Gibbs said that it would work, it would. His boss had yet to lead him astray and it wouldn't start now, not with Tim's life on the line.

_"DiNozzo."_

Tony blinked suddenly, finding himself staring at the entrance to the boathouse. Newman inhaled sharply, stepping aside to let the agent pound on the door. There was a scuffle on the other side, a muffled disagreement and finally, silence. Raising his gun, DiNozzo rocked his weight back to kick the door down.

"Uh…come in?"

Slightly surprised by the hospitality, DiNozzo motioned for Newman to push the door open before he slid forward, gun at the ready. His eyes adjusted to the low light, focusing first on the large sailboat. Directly next to the vessel, Maxwell Lewis and James Abram stood, guarding the pathway to the front of the boat. Even without weapons, the pair appeared more menacing than in their photos.

Tony remained in front of the door, keeping his gun trained on the pair.

"Lewis, Abram," he greeted, weapon ducking between the two.

Newman slipped inside behind him, close enough for Tony to feel Andy's hot breath on the back of his neck. DiNozzo's skin crawled.

"Nice to meet you. _Now who the hell are you?" _Abram growled, securing a backpack strap around his chest. Realizing he wore the getaway bomb, Tony's aim lined up with James' heart.

_"DiNozzo, NCIS. Where's McGee?" _

"Told you so," Lewis grinned, playfully punching Abram's shoulder.

Partially obscured by the man, Tony hadn't noticed Tim kneeling next to a large plastic, wrapped grey package. Eyes wide, McGee stared helplessly at his senior agent. Unwilling to consider the situation, DiNozzo fought for control of the rage that burned within him. Jaw muscles as tight as a spring, he glared back at the pair.

_"Let him go," _he barked, feeling Tim's anxious gaze.

"Not quite yet, but I think you should let _us _go," Lewis grinned, pulling a remote out of his pocket.

When he slammed a button, Tony visibly jumped, anticipating a nonexistent impact.

_"Not a chance in hell. _Newman, run, don't stop."

Without needing a second invitation, Andy retreated, tripping on his way out of the door. Tony's aim flicked to Lewis, weapon lining up with a straight shot to the man's heart.

"Yeah, I really don't think you want to do that," Maxwell grinned, shaking the remote at Tony. "Dead man's switch, cop. I pull my finger off this button and all of us_, including your friend_, go boom."

DiNozzo laughed, shrugging slightly behind his gun.

"That won't bother me too much. It might piss off my boss though. He doesn't like paperwork. And dead agents? _Lots of paperwork," _DiNozzo remarked flippantly.

Frowning at DiNozzo's rebuke, Lewis glanced at Abram, not quite sure what to do next. Suddenly, McGee began mumbling animatedly, his words incoherent through the gag. Abram plucked a gun from the back of his jeans, leveling it at the junior agent. Tim automatically dropped his gaze to his hands, almost shocked to find the bomb in front of him. His eyes closed, his strident breaths increasing in succession until they bordered on hyperventilations.

_"Gun on me, Abram, keep it on me,"_ DiNozzo ordered, sweat pricking his forehead on Tim's uncontrolled breathing. "Calm down, Probie, keep breathing. Nice and easy, you can do it."

McGee's eyes opened, his frightened gaze finding Tony before rolling towards the ceiling. He hiccuped, desperately trying to return his breaths back to normal. DiNozzo kept his aim fixed on Lewis' heart. With his junior agent's ragged breaths flooding the room, Tony tried not to listen as his pulse quickened further to match Tim's terror. DiNozzo tightened his grip on his Sig, compensating for the sweat pouring from his palms.

_Come on, Probie, you gotta calm down. You just need to calm down. _

"Okay, cop, where were we?" Lewis started again. "Oh yeah, you were about to let me and Abram walk out of here. Now before you say no again, let me tell you how this works. I've got about a half-mile radius on this detonator. When we get out of range, the bomb deactivates, you get your friend out and everyone has a nice day. How's that sound?"

McGee solemnly shook his head at Tony.

_"Boss, get in here." _

_"What the - ?" _

Before Lewis could finish his thought, Gibbs and Ziva slipped through the door, their weapons finding the pair before their eyes did. When the team leader noticed McGee by the boat, his angry glare turned caustic.

_"Let him go. Now!" _

"Back it up," Lewis ordered, showing the detonator to Gibbs and Ziva.

DiNozzo glanced at his boss for orders to rush the pair but Gibbs shook his head, stepping away from the door.

_"I will find you," _Gibbs threatened.

_Oh yeah, Homeland Security should get them on the way out. _

McGee's captors and Ziva carefully slithered past each other, squaring their shoulders to avoid a confrontation on the way to their destination. Keeping her aim on Lewis until she ended next to the bomb, Ziva waited for the pair to bolt out of the door before dropping to examine their handiwork. Gibbs and DiNozzo were at her side instantaneously.

"We've got minutes before they're out of range," Gibbs announced, plucking the gag out of McGee's mouth before he turned his attention to the junior agent's hands. His bound wrists were affixed to a small piece of metal protruding from the internal aspect of the package.

Gibbs reached under his shirt, producing his knife and reached after Tim's hands.

_"Boss, wait!" _McGee yelped, blinking as he finally seemed to process the situation.

DiNozzo hadn't noticed the significant blood caked against the left side of Tim's head and his glazed vision.

"Wha - ?"

_"Boss, it's a bluff. That dead man's switch, it's just a bluff. _There's a pressure switch, you release the pressure from the tie and we - ."

Gibbs shifted his weight back to his knees, glaring at the bomb as though he could disarm it with sight.

"What's ETA on the bomb squad, Ziver?"

"Twenty minutes. But Gibbs, there is also a back-up timer. We have eight minutes."

Gibbs let out a few choice words before he glanced back at Ziva, eyes surprisingly concerned.

"Can you - ?"

"I do not know, Gibbs, but I will try."

The team leader nodded slowly, studying the piece of metal that attached his junior agent to the deadly device. On the opposite side of the bomb, Ziva began to tensely peel back the layers of plastic as she examined what she had agreed to defuse. Knowing he could lend moral support and nothing more, DiNozzo gripped Tim's shoulder tightly.

"Anybody got any string?" Gibbs asked, almost incredulous at his idea.

"Y-yeah, I do boss," DiNozzo volunteered, reaching into his pocket for the sewing kit that he kept on hand for an untold fashion emergency. When he pressed a small spool of thread into his boss' outstretched hand, he tried to ignore the flabbergasted glances from his teammates.

_If he always expected to look his best, he had to be prepared for anything. _

"Do I want to know?"

"Probably not," DiNozzo shrugged, comforted by the laugh Ziva and McGee shared.

"Alright, DiNozzo, get out of here."

"No way, boss, rule 15," DiNozzo stated, squeezing Tim's shoulder again.

The younger man glanced up, smiling appreciatively.

With his rules used against him, Gibbs growled audibly, no doubt planning some retribution for DiNozzo later. While Tony and McGee watched, the team leader tied the thread around the piece of metal and pulled it tight enough to match the pressure of Tim's placement.

"Boss, I - ," McGee started.

"Alright, Tony," Gibbs interrupted, looking down at Tim's bound and bloodied hands, "untie that wire and get McGee out of here."

Dropping into a crouch, Tony carefully unwound the wire that connected Tim's zip-tied hands to the bomb. Just before he undid the last turn, he grinned nervously at his team.

"It's been great, guys," he stated.

"Wish I could say the same, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled, spurring the senior agent forward. Tony undid the last turn of the wire, exhaling slowly when no impact came, and yanked McGee to his feet.

_"Outta here, now."_

"Thanks, boss," Tim smiled tightly, swaying in Tony's grasp.

_"Go now," _Gibbs growled, watching Tony hustle the confused junior agent towards the door. As he maintained the appropriate tension on the thread, the team leader narrowed his eyes at Ziva who still plucked her way through the plastic wrap.

"Means you too, Ziver."

"But, Gibbs, it has been jake-fixed. It might be possible for me - ."

_"David,"_ the team leader ordered, glaring at her defiant gaze_. "Get out now."_

Raising her hands slowly, Ziva rocked to her feet and hurried towards the door. She placed her hand on the doorframe, checking over her shoulder at Gibbs. He shook his head and without another protest, she vanished.

With his team on their way to safety, Gibbs managed to keep the thread taut as he stood. Carefully moving towards the door, the team leader unwound the thread spool with every step. He made it just outside the door when the spool ran out, clinking to the edge of the docks and rolling into the water with a quiet splash.

The morning light beat down on him as Gibbs held the thread tightly and glanced towards the sky. High overhead, white clouds clung to the pale blue and he remembered how often Kelly loved to find mundane objects in their strange shapes. He stared at one that reminded him of his boat before he closed his eyes, ready to destroy much more than the stillness of the morning.

He blinked, taking in the docks and the forms of his retreating agents. Just ahead two familiar shapes materialized, Gibbs inhaled sharply at the sight of Shannon and Kelly, the ghosts of his happiness and his former self. His wife's delicate face broadened into a smile as she held her arms out to him. His daughter started toward him.

Prepared to be reunited with his girls, Gibbs released the thread and sprinted down the dock.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**7:38am – Just Outside Sunshine Harrison's Marina – Greenway District, Washington, DC – Concurrent with Ziva David's Misuse of "Jerry-Rigged" –**

_His knees burned, his head ached. Something didn't seem right. _

_Running._

McGee was certain that he was running, not knowing why or what from. The heaviness of the dock's wood thudded its way through the limited padding of his dress shoes and all the way into his joints. His head pounded with renewed vigor, increasing at every stride. He slowed, pressing his still bound hands to his face to try to sweep the confusion from his mangled brain.

"Probie, keep moving!" DiNozzo urged, both hands propelling Tim forward.

_At least he finally knew the cause of the footsteps behind him. _

Tim stumbled, nearly dropping to his knees before regaining his footing. Heart racing in his chest, McGee felt an overwhelming need to escape but couldn't remember quite why. When Tony grabbed his arm, lurching him forward, the junior agent started to ask what they fled.

An explosion suddenly ripped through the quiet morning, its deafening clap drowning out Tim's voice. Just as his feet hit the end of the dock, DiNozzo tackled McGee, dragging him down into the sandy grass. The morning dew soaked through his shirt as he struggled against the senior agent's weight.

"_Tony_," he protested.

When a piece of flaming wood slammed into the ground only inches from his face, McGee stilled and let DiNozzo push him deeper against the ground. All around them, Tim could hear the pieces of debris colliding with the earth.

Tony shuddered violently, rocking his weight off Tim. As McGee sat up, he watched DiNozzo shrug off his grey suit jacket and frown at the blackened spot in the center of the back.

"Tony? You okay?"

"Fine, just got a little hot all of a sudden," DiNozzo said tightly, narrowing his eyes at the piece of burning wood at his feet. McGee stared blankly at the leveled boathouse, black smoke billowing out of the ruins. Against the picturesque tableau of the pale blue sky and glittering cityscape, the incomprehensible carnage seemed out of place.

When the memory of his abduction and the bomb appeared in his mind, McGee shot to his feet, swaying at the new-found stress. Just minutes ago, his team had gathered in the building that now smoldered in the embers on the ground around him. He exhaled slowly, knees buckling while Tony caught him, supporting his weight.

"Easy, Tim, easy," Tony urged, retrieving his knife from his belt buckle. "Are you okay?"

DiNozzo cut the bonds off McGee's wrists, unable to contain his flinch when he noticed the blood smeared on the younger man's fingers. Nodding absently, Tim numbly rubbed his wrists. Blackened pieces of the boathouse started to drift down the Anacostia.

"Come on, Probie, look at me," DiNozzo tried, squeezing Tim's shoulder hard enough to command the younger man's attention.

McGee watched a seagull glide past the tower of smoke, flirting with the deadly airstream. Barely able to comprehend that he'd have been vaporized without his team, the junior agent shook his head and pulled a shaky inhale. Pressing his lips together, Tony finally surveyed the destruction behind them. The quiet call of sirens echoed, overtaking the ringing in McGee's ears. Tim spun around, noticing no one near the woods behind them except for Neil Conway's approaching figure.

"Holy - ," DiNozzo started, face blanching at the sight.

_"Tony, where are Gibbs and Ziva?"_


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer : If you recognize it, I still don't own it.  
**

**Author's Note : **_Thanks to all the readers, favoriters and followers. As always, extra thanks for **angelscatie, DS2010, Crawcolady, puppypants, Precious Pup, Maunzeli, starefire25, jmsings, Clamater, AgentD.6, SkySpade and** **scousemuz1k **for taking time to leave me a review. Loved seeing your thoughts on the last chapter.  
_

_Meant to get this one up yesterday, but got a bit busy with work. Hope to get the posting completed next week. _

_Happy Saturday. _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**7:49am –Outside What Used to be Sunshine Harrison's Marina – Greenway District, Washington, DC –**

Without answering Tim's grave question, DiNozzo sprinted to the Anacostia's shore. Heart slamming against his sternum, he froze at the water's edge, holding his hand to protect his eyes from the bright sun. His gaze flicked across the rough waters, scanning for any signs of life amongst the driftwood. Tony barely inhaled when he felt McGee's presence by his shoulder.

"_Do you see them?!"_ DiNozzo rasped, almost lunging in the water after a piece of debris.

_"No, there's nothing_. _Tony, they're not there! Where are they?"_ Tim cried out, touching his hand to his head and swaying slowly.

The crunch of a tire on gravel piqued Tony's interest but he continued to scan the water, desperately searching for his boss and co-worker. He didn't see three men jump out of the van, guns raised at the pair.

_"Hey guys! No, wait, they're with me!"_ Neil Conway shouted breathlessly, loping across the grass until he reached the van.

When Regina Zavoral slid out of the vehicle, clutching her Glock, the tallest Homeland Security agent blushed fiercely.

DiNozzo pressed his lips together, feeling the sweat start to pour off his brow. He suppressed an urge to leap into the river, wanting nothing more than to canvas every waterlogged inch until he found his teammates. Despite the internal call to action, Tony couldn't seem to bring himself to move, knowing the notoriously violent currents of the Anacostia. If he didn't know exactly where they were, he could be swept away before locating them. Even strong swimmers, which DiNozzo was, were known to perish in the rapid undertow.

"You've got to be shitting me, Kopalski," Conway lamented, pressing his hand against his oozing shoulder. "I get shot and they get blown up so you can try to get some ass?"

"But - ." Kopalski started.

_"Tony!" _

McGee slammed into Tony's shoulder, interrupting them. Trembling finger pointed straight ahead, Tim directed Tony's gaze to a brown haired mass that broke the surface, its curls fanning out before sinking away again.

_ "Gibbs and Ziva are in the water!_ _Tim, you stay here, that's an order_," Tony yelled, rushing into the river. Underneath his feet, he could feel the slide of the sand and the strong pull of the undercurrent, threatening to sweep him away.

"Oh shit," Kopalski murmured, shucking off his jacket and following Tony.

Ziva breached the surface again, her curls bouncing as she struggled to tread water.

_"There! She's over there_!" Tony yelled, redirecting the agents towards the Israeli.

When her head disappeared under the water again, DiNozzo's heart stopped and he pushed forward, shoving driftwood away as he swam. A grey-haired figure rose shortly before Ziva resurfaced. When Tony reached them, he grabbed Gibbs' free arm, trying to loll his boss' head into the air.

Despite their best efforts, Gibbs' face slipped below the surface as they fought against the Anacostia's efforts to claim him. Kopalski finally arrived with another agent, one grabbing Ziva around the waist and the other taking her spot by Gibbs' arm. Pushing against the water that threatened to take them all downstream, the agents barely managed to find dry land again.

Still not entirely free of the water, DiNozzo dropped his boss onto the sandy shore. Tony fell to his knees and pressed his fingers deep into Gibbs' neck, praying that his boss was still okay. The thready pulse bouncing in the artery underneath his fingertips let DiNozzo know his boss was still alive.

But Tony suddenly realized that his boss' chest no longer moved.

_Gibbs was alive, but not breathing. _

Leaping into action, Tony fought the panic that rose in his throat and started the fluid motions of well-rehearsed CPR. With the first round of chest compressions, Gibbs coughed raggedly, a stream of water bursting from his mouth. DiNozzo rolled his boss onto his side, allowing the dark water to stream down Gibbs' face. Underneath Tony's hands, the team leader's body trembled as he sucked in a breath.

Heart racing in his own chest, Tony reclined Gibbs on the shore and watched his boss breath slowly. Almost unable to believe their good fortune, DiNozzo leaned back, finally feeling the cool waters lap around his knees. Staring down at the man who'd nearly sacrificed his life to protect his team, Tony grinned in both disbelief and pride. He finally understood why he turned down every offer and every promotion, an unconscious need to stay close to the man who evolved into the father that his own blood could never be.

_"Tony! Is he - ?"_ McGee called tensely, kneeling next to Ziva on the shoreline.

"Alive! He's alive," DiNozzo announced, moving towards his team when a group of paramedics forced him away from his boss. "How about you, Zee-vah?"

"Fine. And you, McGee?" she nodded, pushing her damp hair out of her face. With her wet clothes matted against her body, DiNozzo would ordinarily let his eyes linger a little too long on her curves but given the circumstances…

"Bit of a headache, but I can't complain," Tim smiled, distractedly rubbing the crusted blood on the side of his face as he stared at the sky.

The plumes of smoke mixed with the clouds, leaving an eerie greyness that stretched across the sun. Another siren's wail rang out through the morning, signaling the arrival of the fire department. While the Homeland Security agents spoke animatedly with Zavoral, DiNozzo watched the paramedics rush Gibbs' stretcher away and he pointed after his boss, glancing down at McGee.

"Shouldn't you go with them, Probster? Make sure you didn't scramble your egghead too much?"

"Yeah, probably," Tim shrugged, bleary eyes meeting Tony's, "I just kinda wanted to see Abram and Lewis get arrested first."

DiNozzo shot to his feet, pressing his lips together as he surveyed the scene. The paramedics whisked Gibbs away while a group of firefighters raced towards the still flaming boathouse, hose unfurling behind them. The smoke billowed out of the smoldering ruins, blowing their way across the river towards the heart of Washington. By the Homeland Security van, Conway and the trio of agents discussed something with Regina Zavoral.

_Where were Lewis and Abram?_

A pit clenched in Tony's stomach when he realized no one had apprehended them.

The sirens taking Gibbs to the hospital wailed away, leaving DiNozzo alone and in charge.

"Tony?" Ziva started, but DiNozzo jogged to the group of Homeland Security agents.

"Any chance you guys stopped Lewis and Abram on their way out of here?" Tony asked, clearly interrupting the tense conversation.

The tallest agent shook his head.

"Observe, but do not engage. Those are Delancey's orders," he shrugged.

"_Are you freaking serious, Kopalski?!"_ Conway roared, pressing his hand against his shoulder again. "They rig that place to blow and you let them walk out of here? What the fu - ?"

"Well, we didn't seem them. They got past our team stationed on the north end of the property," another agent helpfully offered while Neil staggered, slamming his back against the van. With impeccable timing, a paramedic poked her head around the back of the van, blonde hair framing an angel's face.

"Anyone here needing medical attention?"

_"That one, got shot last night, take him_," Tony stated, gesturing towards Conway. Pale face lined with betrayal, Neil narrowed his eyes at Tony before the paramedic grabbed his arm.

"Over here!" she yelled over her shoulder. "Just hold on for me, sir. We'll get you to the hospital very soon."

"If NCIS is hiring, sir, you know where to find me," Conway grinned.

While another paramedic arrived to assist Neil into a waiting ambulance, Tony grinned at the Homeland Security agents. One of them slid away, phone in hand.

"You guys think you'll be able to handle it from here?" DiNozzo asked, waiting until Kopalski nodded slowly. "Okay, good, Reg, let's go."

Without another word, Tony swiveled and marched back towards his other teammates. From a distance, the barely conscious McGee and drenched Ziva scarcely resembled the brilliant computer genius and powerful, terrifying assassin that comprised his regular team. He paused in front of them, crossing his arms while Regina stepped next to him.

"Alright, guys," he said, voice authoritative, "Team America over there let Abram and Lewis get loose. They've got another bomb and quite frankly - ."

Tim shot to his feet, swaying violently as DiNozzo caught his arm and held him upright. His heavy-lidded eyes blasted with a surprising clarity.

_ "I know exactly where they're headed." _


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer : If you recognize it, I still don't own it.  
**

**Author's Note : **_As always thanks to all the favoriters, followers and readers. Extra thanks needs to go to **puppypants, jmsings, Crawcolady, scousemuz1k, starfire25, Maunzeli, Precious Pup, angelscatie, Clamanter, and AgentD.6. **  
_

_Your thoughts are always incredibly appreciated. _

_Will wrap up the main story for this on Thursday. Plan for the epilogue next Monday. Between work and my next story, I haven't had a chance to edit it yet. _

_Just a note about the story, I have no idea how high a dock used to embark ships would be. For the story's sake, imagine it to be quite high. Momentary lapse in judgement on my end for the research. Apologies. _

_Enjoy. _

___-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**8:41am – The Naval Historical Center – Washington Navy Yard, Washington, DC –**

Standing in front of the group of plainclothes Metro cops that Steve Barrows had sent over, DiNozzo stared out at their intense faces and tried to ignore the lick of insecurity that traipsed down his spine. With Gibbs out of commission for the rest of the investigation, everyone looked Tony for orders, expecting him to have all the answers.

When he drove the Charger to the Navy Yard, accelerator against the floor mat and lights blaring, he'd barely managed to dodge the barrage of questions that spilled from Ziva and Regina. Mercifully, McGee's ordeal left him too exhausted to pester Tony for details. After he'd announced the plot to destroy the _USS Southland _at the historical center, the junior agent had slumped against the passenger door, breathing heavily as he slept.

Though now as he stood as the one in charge, DiNozzo realized that his plan didn't deviate much from Gibbs' original one.

_Find the bomb. Stop Abram and Lewis, at all costs. _

"Sir?" One of the detectives leaned forward, brow furrowed.

Tony blinked into action, knowing everyone present expected him to have the answers that he sought.

"Alright, everybody, listen up!" DiNozzo shouted, his voice commanding the group's attention. "I'm Special Agent DiNozzo, NCIS. For those of you who don't know why we're here, there are two men poised to drop a bomb off at today's event. The suspects' names are James Abram and Maxwell Lewis, they are to be considered armed and extremely dangerous. Be on the look-out for a black backpack that we believe contains the device. Apprehend quickly and quietly, try not to provoke these guys. We're not quite sure what they're capable of. Bomb squad's on stand-by, anybody got any questions?"

"How should we go after them?" A sallow-faced man in the front row asked.

"Quickly and discretely," DiNozzo nodded. "Last thing we need is for the media to pick up on this and turn the whole thing into a circus. We've got unis canvasing their known haunts and other areas, but we do need to locate them before they do anything. We don't need people to panic. Anybody else?"

"Yeah, what are they saying for the explosion in Greenway?" the man continued.

"Weather balloon crash," Tony shrugged, not sure what to say.

"Isn't that for UFOs?"

"_Look, anybody got any other questions that relate to finding Abram and Lewis?"_

A sea of blank faces stared back at Tony, a collective headshake resounding, while Zavoral slithered around the group and displayed the suspects' pictures on her cell phone. Pulling his Sig out of his holster, DiNozzo clutched the still-damp grip and waited for Regina to finish her rounds. When she pulled out the Glock that Tony instantly recognized as Gibbs' personal piece, the senior agent failed to suppress a flash of jealousy.

_"Alright, move out!"_ Tony ordered, watching the officers disperse.

When DiNozzo glanced back at his own team, he shook his head at the nearly comatose McGee leaned against the alley wall, Ziva and her wrinkled, barely dry clothes, and the case agent that still couldn't shoot her way out of a paper bag. He finally understood why Gibbs always seemed a dead end away from killing one of them.

"Do you know how to shoot?" Ziva asked quietly, gesturing towards Zavoral's gun.

"Yeah, Kopalski showed me. You point it at the guy and pull the trigger," Regina nodded, staring at the imposing weapon in her hand.

"Close enough," DiNozzo shrugged. "Alright - ."

"Close only counts in bocci and hand grenades." Ziva peered around the corner of the alley to check on the plainclothes officers' progress.

Tim breathed slowly, the color draining further from his typically pink cheeks.

"Figured you'd remember the grenades, Zee-vah. Probie, you don't look so good. Think you should - ?"

"No way, Tony, I'm going," Tim protested, smiling thankfully when Ziva passed him another back-up gun. DiNozzo realized that he'd lost count of her accessory weapons for the day, not to mention how many probably ended up at the bottom of the Anacostia.

"Alright. McGee, you're with me. Ziva, take Zavoral and for the love of G-d, Reg, don't try to shoot anyone." When the women disappeared out of the alley towards the ceremony, DiNozzo raised a warning finger at his subordinate. "You don't leave my side, got it?"

"Loud and clear, Tony," Tim nodded, dully checking the clip in the gun. Cheeks pale and left side of his face a disconcerting shade of purple, McGee looked like he needed to be in a hospital bed more than walking into a hunt for suspects.

Shaking his head at the younger man's stubbornness, DiNozzo waved the junior agent out of the alley. Guns tucked away, the pair slid into the large gathering that had assembled for the recently decommissioned warship. Just on his first glance around the throng of people, Tony recognized two senators with their press groups, scrounging for a photo opportunity.

_How many other important people could there be here? _

DiNozzo and McGee continued on their way through the horde, desperately searching for Abram or Lewis. Music played loudly, diverting their focus towards a small podium directly in front of the _USS Southland. _Dread clenched Tony's stomach as he scanned the crowd for any familiar face. He knew that if they didn't locate the men in the next few minutes that there was a very real possibility that they'd be able to detonate the bomb.

He swiveled towards the back, noticing a blond head pushing its way through the people.

_"McGee!" _Tony shouted, shoving his way past an angry woman.

DiNozzo fought through the mass of people, Tim close on his heels, until they managed to stumble free of the group. Mere feet away, James Abram stood stock-still, clutching the backpack to his chest and looking like he'd seen a ghost, _well, two ghosts._ DiNozzo pulled his gun out of its holster, lining it up with Abram's heart again. Without anything holding him back this time, Tony inhaled deliberately, hoping for any excuse to take the man down.

"Abr - ," DiNozzo started, words dying on his lips when James thrust the bag at him and sprinted in the direction of the parking lot.

McGee bolted after Abram before Tony could stop him, leaving the senior agent to glance disbelievingly between the bomb in his hands and his vanishing junior agent. Shaking the backpack open, Tony grimaced at the brick-sized lump of grey material that he figured to be explosives. Since Lewis and Abram were now clear of the blast radius, DiNozzo knew it would only be a matter of seconds before they detonated the bomb. While a speaker droned over the loudspeaker about the virtues of the Navy, Tony stared at the destroyer, finally finding a place for the bomb.

_Let it be swept away by the Anacostia. The water would decrease the blast power of the explosion. _

Feet thumping heavy on the ground, DiNozzo dashed towards the edge of the dock. He spun and hurled the backpack into the river. Momentum still carrying him forward, DiNozzo struggled to stop.

Tony's bad knee caught a docking pylon and gave out, destroying his equilibrium. He teetered unnoticed on the edge, his lifetime passing in a heartbeat, right before he plummeted off the side.

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**9:06am - The Naval Historical Center – Washington Navy Yard, Washington, DC – Concurrent with Tony DiNozzo's Fall from Grace –**

McGee sprinted after Abram, his gait pounding in time with the thud in his head. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, the tiny molecule burning in his synapses and muscles, propelling him forward and keeping him conscious. Tim fought the greyness that edged his vision, the blackness that threatened to consume him, knowing that as soon as he saw the man responsible for his abduction in custody sleep would come.

Loping away from the battered agent, Abram easily increased the distance between the two. Course originally set for the parking lot, James shocked McGee by ducking into the alley where Tony held his pre-pursuit pep talk only minutes earlier. When the suspect disappeared completely from view, Tim pulled Ziva's extra weapon from the small of his back.

Hand clasping the grip of Ziva's unfamiliar Beretta, its daintiness almost unbearable, McGee wondered how such a small gun could protect him. He slid into the darkened backstreet, eyes as alert as his bruised brain would allow. Past the grimy bricks and discarded filth, the agent continued nearly half-way through the alley until he reached a dumpster, obscuring part of the path.

McGee closed his eyes for a beat, letting his mind rearrange his fading thoughts and psyching himself for the coming confrontation with his former captor. Tim crept forward, deliberately taking every inch as slow as possible. Shoulder pressed against the frigid metal, he shivered slightly and peered around its back, gobsmacked to find the other side of the alley deserted.

Tim shook his head, feeling his body's last wisp of adrenaline ebb away, his reserves completely spent.

Before he could retreat to where he'd left Tony, something solid connected with his back, dropping him to the floor of the disgusting alley. McGee landed face-first in something unidentifiable while his gun skittered under the dumpster, whisking its delicate protection away. Tim rolled to his back, barely able to dodge an overhead attack when Abram swung a pipe at his head.

McGee kicked out, colliding hard with Abram's knees. When James landed bodily on Tim's chest, the air dispersed from his lungs and stars swarmed the agent's vision. While McGee disappeared to the brink of consciousness, the pipe rolled away, joining the gun underneath the dumpster.

When Tim blinked awake, he was still prone on the alley floor, hair caked with whatever he'd landed in earlier. It took a few seconds for him to realize Abram sat on his chest, pinning his arms above his head. The hatred in James' deadly eyes chilled him to the bone. McGee tried to push Abram off him, the exhaustion hitting him full force as he slumped back to the ground, fighting just to stay awake.

"Don't worry, cop, I'll kill you soon enough," Abram casually smiled. "Just want you hear something first."

Having no fight left, Tim glared at Abram until a dull thump echoed underneath the din of the speaker.

Without missing a beat, the speech continued as though nothing had occurred.

_Tony, oh G-d._

"What the fu - ?" Abram started, swiveling towards the presentation.

Simultaneously, Tim lurched upward, slamming his head into James' face.

A sickening crack echoed through the alley and Abram slumped heavily on Tim's chest, immobile. Sliding out from underneath the unconscious suspect, McGee tried to climb to his feet. Having burned through his body's last bit of energy, he leaned against the frigid, slimy dumpster. His vision greyed again, black lines streaking across his view of the end of the alley.

He barely managed a step before his quaking body fell back to the ground.

Above the dark and grimy buildings, the clear blue sky spun, like the carousels McGee always loathed as a kid. He closed his eyes, flooded with some inane childhood memory about the only time his father took him and his sister to an amusement park. They'd left early when he threw up all over his father's shoes on that damn carousel.

Right before he retreated into unconsciousness and his memories, Tim thought he heard Ziva scream his name.


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer : If you recognize it, I still don't own it.  
**

**Author's Note :** _Thanks to everyone who's favorited, followed and read so far. Extra thanks to everyone who's left a review. I'll post usernames in the next chapter, but that doesn't mean I am any less grateful. Just decided to get this up today as I finished the edit last night. Seeing as I have one foot out the door to work, I hope you'll forgive (or appreciate) the short author's note. _

_Few unexpected things just happened in this, just like real life. _

_This is the wrap up of the main story, last chapter will be up before the long weekend. _

___-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**6:23pm – St. Catherine's Hospital – Room 2418, ICU – Capitol Hill District, Washington, DC –**

Settling back into the uncomfortable hospital chair, Tony DiNozzo watched the steady rise and fall of his boss' chest. Face uncharacteristically peaceful, Jethro Gibbs slept soundly in the hospital bed. The tubes buried in his boss' veins, replacing depleted fluids, forced the senior agent to accept his boss' humanity, a side of the man he rarely ever witnessed.

Typically fueled by nothing but coffee, Gibbs always appeared to be more machine than man, scarcely eating and sleeping even less. The first one into the office and the last to leave, Tony had always considered his boss to be a permanent fixture in the bullpen, almost a piece of the NCIS building itself. Though now as Gibbs lay still, suspended somewhere between the waking world and dreams, DiNozzo needed to rethink his opinion of the man.

The steady beep of the sinus rhythm on the bedside monitor and the early afternoon sun filtering through a window nearly lulled Tony to sleep. His head tapped the back of the chair, jolting him awake. His right leg slammed against the ground, writhing as he stretched after the brace that immobilized his bad knee. When he tapped his leg with the cast on his right hand, he let out a yelp, breathing slowly through the wave of pain that crashed over him.

To ease his mind away, he studied the cheerful décor of the seaside prints that plastered the walls of the otherwise bland hospital room. His eyes landed on his boss again and he shook his head.

When he'd been rushed to the hospital, after a news boat plucked him out of his second jaunt in the Anacostia, the doctor had told him that he'd been lucky.

_That they'd all been lucky._

When he'd been subjected to every test that his doctor could imagine, poked and prodded by every machine and hospital employee imaginable, Tony certainly hadn't felt particularly lucky. Though when a nurse told him that he'd survived the same tumble that killed a man weeks before with nothing more than a broken wrist and dislocated patella, DiNozzo had finally accepted that luck may have played a role. Or, as his second doctor theorized, the bomb broke the surface tension of the river, turning what should have been a lethal fall into a simple dive.

_Maybe medical school had taught the man something, namely how science trumped the need to believe in something as esoteric as luck. _

Almost out of gratitude for his very survival, Tony had done everything they'd asked : obediently given his statement to Metro, surrendered his prized Roberto Cavalli suit to Kopalski for evidence, and assigned Ziva David and Regina Zavoral to serve as NCIS liaisons to close out the Fox case. But when his doctor requested he remain overnight for observation, he'd balked at the thought of leaving his teammates to sleep without him.

A cast for his wrist, brace for his leg, a stern lecture from three doctors and a signature on the form that released their liability was all it took for DiNozzo to spring himself from the Emergency Department. However when one of the floor physicians found him keeping a vigil at Gibbs' bedside, Tony became an unofficial patient, subject to a doctor's exam every time someone came to check his boss.

DiNozzo rubbed his head, frowning at the thought of Tim McGee's plight. Two floors down and clear on the other side of the hospital, Tony had only managed to limp his way to the still-unconscious junior agent's room once. When he'd inquired about the younger man's status, the doctor had gravely mentioned the words 'subdural hematoma.' Tony hadn't understood the severity of his condition until the man explained how a tiny brain bleed had resulted from one of Tim's many head traumas.

Tony couldn't believe how a small artery, nothing more than a blip on a CT scan, could mean the difference between life and death in the smartest man he'd ever met. He'd asked about options, begged for answers that no one had. The only thing they'd said was to continue to monitor the bleed until they knew it was stable or Tim required surgery.

"Too early to tell," the doctor had murmured.

DiNozzo shook his head, swallowing hard at the thoughts of the preceding events.

_His boss and his junior agent were in serious condition. Gibbs stable, but McGee not. _

_And him? _

_He limped away with bruises and a few broken bones. _

_How did any of this make sense? How was any of it fair?_

DiNozzo stared blankly at the clock on the wall, the seconds ticking away.

_McGee should be heading for his follow-up CT scan within the next hour. _

His eyes flicked up, numbly regarding a muted movie scan across an old, pixelated TV. Nearing the end of the film, the two main characters stared deeply into each other's eyes before they locked dramatically in an intense embrace. DiNozzo wondered why Hollywood couldn't ever seem to capture the reality of a hero's face. The lacerations, the contusions, the broken bones, the quiet thump of a normal sinus rhythm while the heroes slept away, not knowing of the people who waited for them to wake. The credits rolled and Tony leaned back against the chair again, his hair frozen with muck from the river water poking him back in the head.

The door to Gibbs' room opened slowly and DiNozzo glanced over to see Director Jenny Shepard enter, face mixture of both concern and anger.

Tony struggled to his feet, shifting his weight to his good leg.

"Director."

The blip of Gibbs' sinus rhythm increased.

"Agent DiNozzo, I didn't expect to see you here. Shouldn't you be - ?"

"I'm fine," DiNozzo interrupted, shaking his head.

Jenny nodded, unable to look at Tony. She slid to the edge of Gibbs' bedside, gripping the railing so tight her knuckles blanched.

"How is he?"

"Should be fine. There's nothing physically wrong with him. The doctors just think the trauma from the explosion and oxygen deprivation from the swim stressed him out enough to put him in a coma. They say he should wake up any minute," Tony explained, limping over to join the director. Underneath the harsh fluorescent light, Gibbs' eyes darted under his eyelids, a telltale sign of an active dream.

Tony wondered what could be powerful enough to keep his boss from waking.

"Jethro stressed?" Jenny laughed sadly.

DiNozzo shrugged, a signal to tell her that he merely relayed something that he didn't believe either. Rubbing her forehead slowly, Jenny shook her head sadly at the unconscious man.

"And Agent McGee?"

"Still unconscious too. He's got some bleeding in his brain. They're going to check him again in a little bit to see if it's gotten worse. He might need surgery."

Jenny exhaled quietly, closing her eyes at the news. With a silent nod at Tony, she retreated from Gibbs, heading towards the doorway. Tony followed as best he could, grabbing her arm before she hit the door. Tense under his grasp, Shepard froze and looked up at him.

"You came here to say something to him. What was it?"

"Agent DiNozzo, I - ."

_"What was it?" _

"I came to say that I'm sorry about what happened, but you know how Jethro feels about apologies," she started, pushing open the door and staring out the window on the opposite wall. "I came to tell him that he should have come to me when he came up with that plan. I wanted to tell him that no matter how hard I'll try, I won't be able to protect him, you or your team from the repercussions of this."

By the time she ended, her voice had grown so quiet that she barely whispered her words.

The silence that enveloped them was broken only by the muted beeping of Gibbs' monitor, a heart in a solider that marched on. DiNozzo glanced back at the man that turned a job into a life, returning order to those who couldn't keep it. With Gibbs unable to protect himself, Tony knew it was time to return the favor.

"I think you'll figure out a way, Director," Tony stated flatly, releasing her arm as he limped into the hallway. Her red-rimmed eyes met his angry gaze.

"Is that a threat, Agent DiNozzo?"

"Not at all," DiNozzo shook his head emphatically. "Just looking out for your agency, Director. I didn't think you'd want word to get out about how you sold out McGee to make nice with Homeland Security."

He limped towards the elevator, figuring that since he was already moving he should go check on Tim. Before he got very far, Shepard slid in front of him, glaring him down.

"I don't appreciate - ."

"You think we appreciated being hung out to dry without back-up? You think McGee will appreciate finding out that _you_ called off his rescue mission? You really want that to be the new normal for _your _agency, Director? A free-for-all?"

She pressed her lips together, closing her eyes as her shoulders sagged under the weight of the threat.

_"What the hell do you want, DiNozzo? Your own team?"_

Tony shook his head, crossing his arms as he stared the director down.

"We keep our jobs, nothing special. No promotions, no raises. We all return to work like normal when we're ready and I know a case agent who deserves a promotion," DiNozzo stated, laying out his terms.

"Regina Zavoral?" Shepard made a face when Tony nodded. "Done, she's got her firearm qualifier in two weeks. _You'd better make sure she passes. And don't think you dare think I'll forget about this, Agent DiNozzo." _

"I don't expect you will, Director."

Tony limped past the director to the elevator, finally finding the strength to make the long trek to check on his junior agent.

___-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**Tuesday, October 3, 2006 – 2:08am - St. Catherine's Hospital – Room 2418, ICU – Capitol Hill District, Washington, DC –**

Just as he was about to seal the deal with his favorite Bond girl, the overhead light flickered on, rousing Tony from a very deep sleep and a very rewarding dream. Bewildered by the sudden change from a comfortable bed to the lime green hospital chair, DiNozzo shot to his feet, fluidly grabbing an invisible gun and aiming his empty hand at the intruder.

A brown-haired nurse carrying a tray of medication slipped through the door. When she noticed Tony's protective stance by his boss' bedside, she smiled politely and pushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

"I'm so sorry about waking you up. Anna didn't tell me Mr. Gibbs had company," she stated, moving towards Gibbs' IV line to administer his medication.

As she passed him, Tony couldn't help but wonder where he'd seen her before. Something about the tight brown ponytail and delicate freckles scattered across the bridge of her nose seemed so familiar, but he knew that he'd never actually met her. He watched her make her note in Gibbs' record before she smiled awkwardly at him, starting to slide past him.

When he saw that characteristic crinkle by her eye, he instantly knew where he'd seen her before.

_That brunette nurse on McGee's cell phone a few weeks ago. _

"Sir, I need you - ," she protested when Tony blocked her path.

"Elise? Elise Sutton?" he asked, watching her brown eyes cloud with uncertainty.

"Y-yeah, who are you?" Her gaze cautiously flicked towards the door and he could see her contemplating an escape route.

"I'm Tony," he explained rapidly. "I'm a friend of McGee's, well , uh, Tim's. But um, yeah, I work with Tim."

"Oh, hey, Tim's friend, nice to meet you, how's he been?" she nodded, grabbing her tray of medications off Gibbs' side table.

"Well, it's a bit of a long story but...he's down in neurology. His doctor says he's supposed to wake up soon," Tony replied, sadly.

Elise's face contorted with surprise, the medications falling from her grasp and scattering across the floor. She pressed her hands protectively over her stomach and gasped involuntarily. Tony grabbed her arms and eased her into the chair that he'd recently vacated.

"These damn hormones," she laughed, pulling a napkin out of her scrub top and wiping away the tears that spilled down her face. Leaning forward in the chair, Elise looked up at DiNozzo her features simultaneously heartbroken and jovial.

"Elise, you're not pregnant…are you?" Tony asked.

"Is Tim going to be okay?" she gaped at the same moment.

"His doctor thinks so. He's got a sub – something? Brain bleed? Last time they checked, it hadn't changed, but he's still out and they're giving him some drugs to see if it helps."

"Subdural hematoma? If Dr. Rosencrantz is watching it, then it must not be too serious. That guy loves to crack everyone open," she nodded, taking in Tony's injuries and looking back to Gibbs. "What happened to you guys? Car accident?"

"Not quite," Tony smiled tightly.

As he tried to figure out how to explain the past few days, DiNozzo pulled his badge out of his pocket, flicking it open while he absently pulled on a loose thread. Fire flashed in Elise's eyes as she rose from the chair, hands against her face.

"So you guys are the federal agents that were brought in after the bombing earlier?" Pressing his lips together, Tony nodded slowly. "So that means Tim is a - ?"

DiNozzo nodded again.

_Just because he wasn't at liberty to discuss his cases didn't mean that he couldn't play charades until someone figured out where they worked. _

Elise ran her hand down her face, her digits shaking under the news.

"I never knew," she whispered, hand absently pressing against her abdomen. "Tim told me he worked in an IT department. Every time he canceled our dates, he always said he had to work. I just - . I thought he was lying, that he had another girlfriend, that he was a flake. He'd disappear for days on end. I didn't know what to think."

"McGee's one of the most reliable people I've ever met. He works with me and well, we get a little involved in our cases," Tony gestured to himself and Gibbs.

She exhaled shakily, glancing over her shoulder at DiNozzo. Protecting her belly with her hands, she rolled her eyes to the ceiling as she tried to blink away a new onslaught of tears.

"_Elise, are you pregnant?"_ Tony repeated, not believing the words that fell from his mouth.

"Twelve weeks," she responded, smiling sadly.

"Does McGee know?"

Tears sprang to her eyes, she shook her head and studied the damp napkin in her hands.

"When I found out, I didn't think Tim was man enough to help me raise a baby. I decided to keep it and raise it on my own, that's why I dumped him. I really cared him, you know, but I couldn't let him destroy our lives. I needed someone who would be there for me, not off doing whatever he was doing. But that was before I knew about this, _I had no idea_."

Rubbing his hand over his chin, DiNozzo shook his head at the news. For the years that he'd known McGee, he never knew the man managed to compartmentalize the different aspects of his life. With Tony, his work spilled over into his personal life, leaving him sneaking out of his dates' homes at all hours of the night when a call from Gibbs came. In bars, all he had to do was 'drop' his badge in front of a pretty girl and he was almost guaranteed an invitation home. But for someone as organized as Tim, Tony wondered how he managed to let his personal life spiral out of control like this.

_Tim must have loved his job enough to let his girlfriend walk away without trying to win her back. _

Tony leaned deeper against the wall, crossing his arms while he allowed the silence to swallow the pair. Once Elise found her way back to the chair, she relaxed slightly, her hiccuped breaths vanishing.

"I think," Tony started, pausing when at her heartbroken stare. "I think when McGee wakes up, you should tell him."

Elise pressed the napkin to her lips, closing her eyes as she tried to shudder the tears away.

"Me too. Do you think he'll take me back?"

"I don't know," Tony answered, the most honest he'd ever felt in his entire life, "but either way he deserves to know."

___-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**9:41am – St. Catherine's Hospital – Room 2418, ICU – Capitol Hill District, Washington, DC –**

Gibbs stooped to pick up Kelly, her uproarious laughter piercing his ears as he tickled her sides. Wriggling away, she giggled again and slithered out of his grasp. When she took off across the yard, he trailed her, enough to let her think that he pursued her but not enough to actually catch her. Kelly vanished behind the old oak in his backyard and Gibbs stopped, crossing his arms and glancing around.

"Oh geez, where'd she go?"

Her muffled laughs echoed from behind the tree. Directly by his boot, half obscured by grass, a tiny frog hopped towards the creek on the other side of the yard. Gibbs crouched, making a show of looking at the amphibian.

"Say, Mr. Frog," he shouted, "I seem to have lost a little girl around here somewhere. Have you seen her? She has brown hair and - ?"

Kelly's face appeared from behind the tree, broad smile on her face as she skipped towards him.

"I'm right here, Daddy," she smiled, hugging him tightly before he could rise. "I'll always be right here."

"So will I," he promised, scooping her off the ground. "So will I."

On the other side of his yard, the back door opened, his beautiful wife leaning out. The dying afternoon light shimmered off her red hair, his heart clenched and he fell back in love with her all over again.

"Honey," Shannon called, "someone needs you. I think it's time to go."

He pulled his daughter close, feeling her heart beat swiftly against his chest.

"It's time to go, Daddy," Kelly murmured. "I love you. Remember you'll always be my Daddy."

He felt the tears prick his eyes at her variation on what he always said before he left on tour. Dropping her to the ground, he tapped her nose and smiled, surprised to see no tears like she always had whenever he left.

"I love you, Kel, remember you'll always be my little girl. No matter how far we are, you're my girl."

"And Mommy?"

"Mommy too," he smiled, letting her fall into his arms once again.

He closed his eyes, holding fast to the moment, the warmth of her skin and the sun, the scent of her hair, the softness of her clothes. He blinked, finding himself staring at the unfriendly white drop-ceiling. Thinking he was back in autopsy, he stirred and reached after his paper towel under head so he could return to work. When he jiggled the IV in his arm and he felt a soft pillow, Gibbs started to sit up.

"Whoa boss, not yet," DiNozzo's quiet voice ordered before his senior field agent appeared at the bedside. An awful stench arrived with Tony, filling Gibbs' nostrils and overwhelming him despite the nasal cannula pumping pure oxygen to his lungs.

Hair protruding at strange angles and dark circles under his eyes, Tony looked as though he'd had a particularly rough night. When Gibbs noticed the green scrubs that DiNozzo wore, his brow furrowed. Out of nowhere, he remembered the bomb and the harrowing rescue of his junior agent.

"DiNozzo? How are - ? _Where's McGee?_"

"I'm fine. Tim's fine too," Tony grinned tensely, the slight eyelid twitch a tell to the lie. Gibbs glared him down. "Downstairs in the neurology department. He got a little banged up when we went after Abram and Lewis. Still asleep, but they say he'll wake up soon."

"Ziva?"

"Fine, running point for Homeland Security since I'm here."

Gibbs nodded against his pillow, his vision greying as he started to fall asleep again. Barely conscious, he noticed the cast on the hand that clutched the bed rail and the awkward way DiNozzo held his weight.

"Tony," he slurred, feeling his consciousness ebb away again, "you did good today. I'm proud of you."

"Thanks, boss," DiNozzo nodded solemnly, sliding away from the bed.

"And DiNozzo?" He struggled to keep his eyes open as his senior agent swiveled towards him.

"Yeah, boss?"

_"For the love of G-d, take a shower. You smell like rotten fish." _

_____-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**2:51pm – St. Catherine's Hospital – Room 1916, Neurology Unit – Capital Hill District, Washington, DC –**

After he'd left his vigil at his boss' beside to follow orders, it had taken DiNozzo nearly an hour to find a shower and another to figure out how to use it with the cast and leg brace. By the time he'd found a new set of scrubs and his way back to his boss' room, it was well after lunch. He hadn't even had the time to slide into his chair and find a good movie to watch before the head nurse found him, pulling him aside to say that McGee was awake.

He'd limped the whole way back to his junior agent's room, turning down an offer for a wheelchair for part of the trip. When he reached McGee's room, he leaned against the wall. Breathing slowly, he tried to figure out how he could talk to Tim without blurting out Elise's big news

_What if she decided not to tell him? _

_How was he supposed to look Tim in the eye and not tell him that he knew that this subordinate would be a father? _

Still unsure about his plan, Tony slid into the small hallway and figured the words would come when he saw McGee. At least, he hoped that they'd find them. When he caught his reflection in a small mirror close to the entrance, DiNozzo frowned at the small bruises that touched his cheeks. In the bottom corner, he noticed McGee upright in the hospital bed, pale-faced and staring intently at his hands. Facing the doorway, Elise sat on the edge of the bed and clutched a new napkin so tightly that Tony feared she might perish if she let it go.

He hadn't wanted to eavesdrop, but DiNozzo was so enthralled by the unraveling scene that he just couldn't limp away.

"You never told me. I still don't understand why you lied about your job. Why couldn't you tell me you're a federal agent?" Elise sighed, already mid-conversation.

"I already told you that I needed to protect you. I never tell anyone what I do, not even my family. If anything ever happens, the less you know about my job, the safer you are," Tim nodded, turning slightly to face her. DiNozzo held his breath at the sight of the left side of McGee's blackened face, the bruising had taken on a color Tony never knew could exist on live flesh.

"That's why I dumped you. I knew you were lying to me about some part of your life, that maybe there was someone else." She exhaled deliberately, studying her shaking hands. "I don't really know what I thought."

They were silent for several long seconds, McGee staring at her incredulously while she played with the shredded tissue in her hands. Tony watched them, engrossed by her awkward prelude to the important news.

_"Yeah, I know,"_ McGee said, his voice harsh, "_you told me when you called_ _that night. I told you I was sorry about not telling you. What do you want Elise? To hear me say that I'm sorry._ _Why'd you come here, Elise?_ _So I could go through this all over again. I want to move on. I'm ready to move on, but I can't if you won't let me."_

Her cheeks flushed as tears streamed down her face. Not even bothering to look up, her lips moved, forming the words long before she articulated them.

_"I'm pregnant." _

The little color remaining in McGee's already ashen face drained away. His mouth gaped, producing no sound, as he seemingly debated whether this was reality or whatever he'd experienced in his short coma. He blinked slowly, regaining control as he nodded.

"Is it - ?"

"Yeah, _oh yeah_, you think it isn't? You're the only person I've been with this year." Elise ripped the napkin as she spoke. "I came to tell you that I made a mistake. I wanted to protect the baby, but that was before I knew. I want to start over._ I need a chance to start over. _See what happens with no more secrets. I want to have a life with you. But I understand, if - . "

Rubbing his face with his hands, McGee glanced out the window and watched the afternoon sun stream through the unwashed glass. Elise wrapped her arms to herself, sobbing while the napkin fluttered to the floor. With both of them significantly distracted, Tony started to slip towards the door, attempting to escape unnoticed.

Right before he turned away, Tim leaned forward and rubbed Elise's shoulders. Tear stained face smiling hopefully, she glanced up at him and McGee held his arms out to her, inviting her to slide into his embrace.

"I can't promise you anything, Elise, but we can try."

While she cried into McGee's chest, her tiny gasps filling the room, Tony slipped back into the hallway and hoped his junior agent finally found the meaning he needed to survive the dark days they would come to share.

___-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**Friday, October 6, 2006 – 10:16am – Dead Eye Jack's Gun Range – Columbia Heights, Washington, DC –**

Standing behind the stark counter of the rundown inner city gun range, DiNozzo clutched his newly-issued Sig in his unfamiliar left hand. The grip, fresh and rough in his palm, made him shake his head. For a fleeing instant, Tony felt a wave of nostalgia for the worn grip of his old weapon that ended up at the bottom of the Anacostia. He sighed quietly, rechecking his aim at the paper target.

Trying to compensate for the change in hands and new sight, DiNozzo adjusted his stance to the left and emptied his clip. When he dropped the weapon to the counter, Regina Zavoral slid next to him and buzzed his target forward. Tony noticed all six shots gathered in the target's left shoulder, leaving him disappointed. He decided not to tell her that he'd aimed for the head.

Studying his work, Regina pulled the target over the counter and took in his grouping, the way all six shots burst through the paper and nearly overlapped each other. DiNozzo rubbed the back of his head, glad to see that she was at least a receptive student. While she still had yet to master the art of hitting any target, let alone her own, Zavoral's desire to improve would pay off.

_Eventually. _

Though as he helped teach her how to pass her gun qualifiers, DiNozzo had to admit that he appreciated how someone needed him. After his teammates had been admitted to the hospital, he'd kept his place at Gibbs' bedside until the doctors had decided his boss was healthy enough for discharge. Right before he'd stopped by to check on McGee, Gibbs had clamped Tony's shoulder hard, told him to take the rest of the month off and disappeared without another word. Tony had tried calling Gibbs so many times that he'd lost count, but every call went unanswered, ringing for hours until DiNozzo gave up.

It had taken Tony a few days to realize that his boss would reach out to him when he was ready.

Tim had been released the following day. With the subdural hematoma deemed stable, the surgeons had advised against draining it in surgery, instead choosing to administer diuretics and anticonvulsants. They'd opted to wait for his symptoms to resolve and complete weekly scans until they were sure his body had healed itself. Under the guise of staying with a trained medical professional, Elise had convinced him to recuperate at her house, likely trying to regain lost time. Not wanting to invade on their reunion, Tony had stayed away.

He'd texted Tim a few times every day, just to check in and make sure that he was feeling okay. McGee answered every one, sounding surprisingly at ease despite everything that had happened.

With Tony himself clearly unfit for duty, he'd been unable to return to the office and show Director Shepard that he wouldn't stand down. Ziva had willingly returned for him, the only member of their team able to act on Tony's threat against the director. From her incessant and misspelled texts, DiNozzo had figured that she wasn't acclimating well to her TAD with Steve Barrows' team.

His phone buzzed and he smiled, not bothering to check the text. It was likely Abby suggesting that they meet for dinner again. With Gibbs in the midst of a disappearing act and McGee hunkered down with his girlfriend, the forensic scientist had latched onto the nearest person who returned her attention. If they did meet up again, it'd be the third time since the event. Tony was just thankful that they'd finally graduated from the hospital cafeteria to actual restaurants.

"You're supposed to aim for the head, right?" Regina questioned, holding Gibbs' Glock. When DiNozzo showed her the cast on his dominant wrist, she laughed quietly, obviously having forgotten. He shifted his weight again, trying to switch his load further off his braced leg.

"Aim for the chest," Tony instructed, buzzing his paper back to its original position. "Bigger target and it's as lethal as a headshot."

She nodded, sliding into the adjacent stall. Breathing slowly, Zavoral squared her shoulders and aimed at the paper target, the black faceless shape representing all the evil that she'd sworn to fight. Closing her eyes, she squeezed off her clip. Every shot missed its mark except for the one that penetrated the head on Tony's.

"Nice shot," he grinned, "just next time hit your own, okay?"

"Yeah," Zavoral sighed, reaching after a new clip. Rechecking her aim, she sighed loudly and pushed her headphones around her neck.

"You'll get it, just takes some time," Tony encouraged, taking the Glock from her hands.

"Yeah, I know, someday, like I haven't been doing this for years already. Oh well," she sagged against the counter. "Did you get the call from the Director this morning about Abram and Lewis?"

"Um, not yet. Why don't you fill me in?"

"Well, they plead out last night to all the charges. Murder one for Levi Fox, attempted murder of four federal agents, kidnapping, assault and battery, I think I spaced out while the Director listed them all. But that's just Homeland Security, the ATF hasn't even figured out what charges to press yet. Either way it looks like they're going to federal prison for a very long time."

"Life?"

"Yeah, she said they plead out to take the death penalty off the table. Really didn't help their case too much that Abram had Fox's murder weapon on him when we arrested him in the alley. Abby managed to match the leather from Abram's coat to the material under Fox's nails," Zavoral nodded, crossing her arms.

"Open and shut, just how I like 'em. How about Harrison or Newman?"

"Both still on the run, Homeland Security is looking for them. Rumor has it the IRS is gunning for Harrison too," Zavoral grinned. "I told you that boat wasn't a tax deduction. But how come Homeland Sec - ?"

"Get used to it," DiNozzo grinned, running his hand through his hair. "A lot of our busts go to the FBI, Homeland Security, ATF, pick an agency."

"Why?"

"It's the nature of the agencies. He who is best known claims responsibility for the bust. Seems to scare all the bad guys if they actually recognize who's chasing them," DiNozzo said, pressing his Sig into Regina's hand. "Try this one, Reg."

"Really? I've always used a Glock before."

"Humor me? Keep your eyes open this time and don't overthink it, okay?"

Regina pulled her headphones over her ears and checked her aim. Barely managing to keep her eyes open, she carefully squeezed off her clip, the staccato of bullets echoing through the range. When he saw that she'd actually hit her paper, he nodded.

"This one feels a lot lighter than the Glock."

"Yeah, it doesn't have as much kickback either. It's just a matter of finding out that feels comfortable in your hands. But that was good, Reg, do it again except hit the guy this time."

He passed her another clip and she met his eyes over her safety glasses. When she loaded the next bullet into the Sig's chamber, she grinned suggestively at Tony.

"Care to make a wager?" she asked.

"Sure, what were you thinking?" he smiled, letting his eyes linger a bit too long.

_The tightness of her shirt and low slung jeans accented her curves, she shifted her weight to her hip and held the gun against the side of her chest. She grinned, the corners of her mouth curling wickedly as she looked at Tony. _

_He couldn't remember the last time he'd been more attracted to a woman. _

"Well if I hit the target, you take me to dinner," she nodded. "What do you want if I don't hit it?"

Unable to voice his suggestion, DiNozzo only winked at the case agent.

When she realized what he requested, her cheeks flushed and she glanced out at the target.

"Okay, ohhhh-kay," she breathed, squaring her shoulders and emptying the clip.

_Win-win either way. _

Placing the gun down on the counter, she buzzed the target forward and they studied her progress. All six shots were scattered haphazardly around the white portion of the target with one nicking the form's shoulder.

Half in, half out.

"Looks like we both win," Tony laughed.

She nodded, smiling seductively as she set her headphones on the counter.

"Yeah, but where do you think we should start?"


	24. Epilogue - part 1

**Disclaimer : If you recognize it, I still don't own it.  
**

**Author's Note :** _As always, thank you to all the readers, favoriters and followers so far. Extra thanks to **angelscatie, starfire25, AgentD.6, scousemuz1k, puppypants, Maunzeli, and Guest S **for taking the time to leave reviews. _

_To answer **Guest S's **review personally, yes I do agree that the serious team bonding was missing from the last chapter. It just ended up working out that way. On my first go-through, Elise didn't tell Tim about the baby. The epilogue originally focused on Tony's reflection about the moments that McGee would miss in his child's life. That ended up being far too sad, so I changed it so Elise could steal Tony's moment.  
_

_Though (thanks to your suggestion), I did add this chapter to give Tim and Tony to flesh out their friendship. It's a bit after the accident when Tim returned to work. _

_I think this one did better as a stand alone, then put with the actual epilogue. _

_The last chapter will be up early next week. _

___-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**Monday, January 15, 2007 – 7:58am – Bullpen - NCIS Headquarters – Washington, DC –**

For the first time since arriving at NCIS that morning, Tony finally got the chance to slide into his desk chair. Carefully easing the weight off his bad knee, DiNozzo leaned forward onto his desk and stared out at the still unoccupied bullpen. Even though the official start to the morning would come soon enough, he just needed a few minutes to savor the last few minutes of the weekend.

He reached after his coffee, stretching far enough so he could see the edge of McGee's workspace. Since their undercover mission months ago, the space had sat uninhabited and unused while its contents waited for the their owner's return. The interruptions it were when Tony had trespassed a few times to wipe that layer of dust that seemed to fester in McGee's absence or retrieve some computer thing that he needed during the agency-mandated recovery time.

Pulling another sip of his coffee, DiNozzo spun his chair around and let his feet drag across the floor as he watched the orange walls blur into the desks. He pushed off his desk to gain speed, shaking his head when he checked his watch.

_Not quite time yet. _

Right after Gibbs had booted their tenth TAD from the team on Friday afternoon, he'd ordered the rest of the team to return to work at 0900 to give them a some time for relaxation before a week of tackling cold cases.

_He'd come in early on the off chance that McGee might show up at 0800, like normal. Given the younger man's continual doubts about returning to the office after his head injury, Tony knew he needed to be there with a snarky comment and to call him McSomething-or-other. _

_Tim thrived on routine. Though while he now lived a different life outside the office with the injury and a baby on the way, DiNozzo could at least make his life at work feel normal. And what was more prosaic than snarky comments and McNicknames? _

_McGoober sounded good enough to start out with. _

_Though it was probably a bit too soon to be calling him McDad. _

DiNozzo bit his lip at the thought of cold cases and shoved his hand against his desk again, allowing the wind of his spin to blow his hair hair. When the coffee bit the back of his throat, he closed his eyes and surrendered himself to finish out the revolutions. His chair stopped long before his head did. Laying it on the desk, Tony breathed slowly as the world turned sideways and rocked back again.

"Oh, G-d," he moaned.

"Saki bombs again, Tony?"

When Tony snapped up his head, a double version of McGee stood in front of him, grinning broadly. DiNozzo blinked again, letting the twins merge together into only one computer geek.

"Not last night," Tony grinned. "Though you're supposed to come with me one of these times."

"Yeah, maybe next time," McGee nodded, features relaxing as he glanced around the familiar space.

"How are you?"

"Not bad," Tim pressed his lips together, nodding slowly. "And you?"

"Pretty good." Tony paused for a beat. "So how's Elise?"

"Not bad, she's got morning sickness real bad lately. Can barely get out of the hospital in the morning to get home. All she wants to do is sleep or eat. Eat or sleep, I guess this is normal, right?" McGee shrugged half-heartedly, looking back to Tony for confirmation.

"Can't say I'd have any idea, Probie. You guys know what it is yet?"

"A girl, Tony, we're having a girl." Dismay lit on Tim's features before it dissipated. "You still with Zavoral?"

"Yeah, surprising, huh? _I _have a serious girlfriend."

"And I'm having a baby."

"What the hell happened?"

Tony and Tim both shared a quiet laugh. As silence settled over the pair, McGee pressed his lips together, shaking his head slowly. While he stared longingly at the plasma, he shifted his weight and slid his backpack into his hands. DiNozzo ran his hand over his face when McGee turned to take in the quartet of desks and the same orange walls.

_Must be like coming home. _

"So how's it feel to be back?"

"A little weird," Tim admitted, dropping his gaze to his shoes. "Who's been TAD?"

"Who hasn't?" Tony laughed again. "Let's see, _in no particular order, _we've had Suzuki, Bennigan, Lasko, Coleman, Butler, Reyes, Gordon, Sloane, Branch and Gibbs just kicked out Chen on Friday."

_"Good G-d."_

"Guess you left some shoes that can't be filled, McD -_Goober_."

Tim shook his head, shrugging slightly as he stared at his feet again. With a shake of his head, McGee started towards his desk. The look on the younger man's face told Tony that it must have been like seeing everything for the first time. Hopping out of his desk chair, Tony trailed Tim.

_Maybe he lied about the memory loss from the head injury. _

"Just so you know Probie, I told Abby you wouldn't be back until tomorrow. She's planning on making you a cake, so I figured you might want to lay low until she finds out."

"You and I both know there's nowhere to hide," Tim laughed, wretching open the drawer reserved for his badge and gun. When he reached for his left hip, he stopped dead, wide eyes jumping to Tony's face. His hands leaped to his right hip, as though the habit might have changed in a few months away from the agency. Breathing hard, he sank into his chair and buried his face in his hands.

"What is it, Tim?" DiNozzo asked, chest clenching.

"M-m-m-my g-g-g-gun. I-I-I-I d-d-d-don't k-k-k-know where my g-g-g-g-ggun is," McGee admitted, peeking out at Tony from behind his hands.

"Could it still be at home?"

"I-I-I-I d-d-d-don't k-k-k-know, Tony. _I don't know. I have no idea where it is!" _

"Alright, Tim, think,_ just calm down for a second and think._ How'd you get here?"

"I took the bus. Elise has a car, you know I don't._ Oh G-d, the bus. Is it on the bus?!"_

When Tony saw the tears welling in Tim's eyes, he sat on the edge of McGee's desk and put his hand on the younger man's shoulder.

"Come on, McPassenger, you _still_ don't have a car?"

"It's part of the five year plan, you know I'm still paying off Hopkins. But Tony, my gun?!"

"Okay, fine, we'll talk about that later. Alright, do you have your holster?" Tim checked his hip and shook his head. "So wherever your service weapon is, it's with the holster. The odds of it falling off your belt is like nada and the chances of someone stealing it from is, well, sorta low. What'd you do this morning?"

"Woke up, breakfast, shower, bus," Tim surmised.

"Dinosaur cereal?" When McGee made a face at him, Tony grinned. "Well, I know it's not a high fiber. But think Tim, where do you usually keep your gun?"

"In a safe by the nightstand," McGee nodded, pulling his hands from his face. "I didn't get my gun out of my safe. Oh, thank G-d, it's still locked in the safe."

"Just don't let Gibbs see."

Tony rubbed Tim's shoulder again while the junior agent relaxed in his chair.

"See - ?"

Just as DiNozzo began to stand, the junior agent flicked his wide eyes at his superior. Mesmerized by the stricken face staring back at him, Tony sank back down onto McGee's desk and tried to ignore the clench in his stomach.

"I don't think I can do this, Tony."

"What do you mean, Tim?"

"This," Tim gestured to his desk first, then the bullpen. "An agent, a dad, _all of this._ How am I supposed to do all of this? I can barely remember things anymore. The doctors called it anterograde amnesia. I remember things the way they were before, but I have a hard time making new memories. It was supposed to get better._ It was supposed to go away,_ but it hasn't. If I can't remember something as important as my gun, how can I remember unimportant things like how to do my job?"

DiNozzo climbed off his perch, jogging to his filing cabinet, and yanked open the lower drawer. Feeling Tim's anxious eyes on him, the senior agent retrieved a large pack of Post-It notes and returned to his partner. He dropped it into the younger man's lap.

"McGee Rule One : Write it down," Tony stated, pulling a post-it from Tim's desk.

Before he could respond, Tony scrawled the rule onto it and pressed it in front of McGee's keyboard. Brow furrowed, Tim carefully considered DiNozzo suggestions. Sighing quietly, he nodded slowly and pushed a pack of blue notes to Tony.

"Guess everyone gets a color?" he said sadly.

"Yeah, but I call green."

Tim nodded, blinking quickly to pass the tears.

"I just don't know how - ."

"You don't have to know how, Tim," Tony continued, settling back on McGee's desk. "You just do. That's the way life is, I guess. You never really know what's going to happen. Just do the best you can, adapt as well as you can. Remember you bend until - ."

"You break."

"McGee Rule Two," Tony paused, pointing to one of the Post-its. _"Write it down."_

Tim nodded again, jotting down his newest rule on a blue post-it and placing it directly adjacent to Tony's.

"Two rules in one day? Now that's progress, McRuleMaster."

Beaming at his subordinate, Tony stood from his perch and thumped his hand against Tim's back. By the time he reached his desk, he noticed McGee still staring at him.

"Something still on your mind, Tim?"

"_I'm having a baby." _

_"And I have a girlfriend." _McGee snickered, tension melting from his features while Tony spoke. "But somehow, I think we'll be okay."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

Both men grinned at each other.

"You don't make promises, DiNozzo, you keep them," Gibbs growled on his way to his desk, pausing when he noticed McGee already at his own. "Glad to have you back, Tim. Need someone around here who knows what the hell they're doing."

"Good to be back, Boss," McGee responded, voice uncertain until he met Tony's eyes.

Tim's head bobbed, a silent agreement to an unspoken pact. When Gibbs rushed out of the bullpen as quickly as he came, McGee exhaled loudly.

"Thank you, Tony."

"For what, Probster?"

"For believing I'll be okay, even when I don't."


	25. Epilogue - part 2

**Disclaimer : If you recognize it, I still don't own it.  
**

**Author's Note : **_As always, thank you to all the readers, favoriters, people who sent PMs and followers. Extra thanks to **Snow-Glory, AgentD.6, Precious Pup, Crawcolady, puppypants, Clamanter, angelscatie, Maunzeli, starfire25, scousemuz1k, and Guest S **for taking the time to leave reviews. Truly do appreciate the time you take to leave your thoughts.  
_

_Have gotten a few requests for some stories including the baby and to bring back Bruce Wayne from Gone. I'd love to write stories to fill every request that people have shared with me, unfortunately time (and idea-wise), I just can't get to it all. Will do my best to fulfill as many as I can in the future. _

_If you missed the first part of the epilogue, that was posted a few days ago. _

_Last chapter, hope you all enjoy it. _

___-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**Friday, September 21, 2007 – 7:08am - Bullpen – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –**

Sliding into his desk chair, Tony DiNozzo turned on his computer and nodded his greeting to the already present Ziva David. Her attention absorbed in finalizing a report for their most recent case, she didn't bother returning the gesture. When he saw Regina Zavoral's blonde head appear over the divider behind the assassin's desk, the senior field agent breathed a sigh of relief that Ziva hadn't noticed they'd arrived at the same time.

While he leaned back in his chair, waiting for his computer to finish its boot process, Tony reminisced about the previous night at Zavoral's apartment. Their torrid, on again-off again romance was definitely on-again, leaving him exhausted as he readied for what should be a long day and an even longer weekend.

Regina waved at him over the partition before disappearing into her space. As the second most recent member of Steve Barrows' team, Zavoral had come a long way from the milquetoast case agent that showed up during the Abram-Lewis case. After she'd finally passed her firearms qualifiers and found a comfortable spot on a supportive team, she'd flourished as an effective and resilient field agent. Even though she was still only a probie, it was difficult for Tony to picture her as one when she took to bossing around the newest member of her team, Neil Conway.

_That was the funny thing about Barrows, his team could be comprised of solely probies and he'd still get as good of results out of them as a team of seasoned veterans. _

_Gibbs probably could too, if only he had the patience of Barrows. _

"Hello, Tony, it appears you had a good night, yes?" Ziva asked, pulling Tony out of his thoughts. Gesturing to the bags under DiNozzo's eyes and his not-so-impeccable suit, David smiled knowingly.

"And what makes you say that, Zee-vah?" Tony grinned, coyly.

"You always have a poofy smile when you have a good night," she explained, flicking her eyes back to her computer.

"Goofy, and yes and no. I had a good night, but I never look goofy," DiNozzo laughed, smoothing his suit jacket. "What about you?"

"I have finally completed that book about Abraham Lincoln's presidency. It was remarkably interesting, though I cannot believe how long it took me to complete."

Vaguely remembering a conversation about the book from eons ago, Tony snorted while he checked his e-mail to see if any hits came though overnight on his BOLO for the petty officer who supplemented his military paycheck by dealing drugs. When he noticed an e-mail from Homeland Security Agent Alex Kopalski, DiNozzo raised his eyebrows at the subject matter.

_"Heya T-Bone. Just wanted to let you know we picked up Andrew Newman this morning. He tried to sneak into Canada with a fake passport. Hard to believe, we can finally close this case out now. Too many months and wasted man hours for this. Hope Conway isn't giving you too much shit over there. Next round of drinks is on you. – Alex."_

Tony re-read the e-mail, shaking his head at the unfortunate nickname he'd somehow earned at Neil Conway's party to celebrate his official transfer to NCIS. DiNozzo always thought there'd been a steak involved somewhere in between all the shots, but no one seemed to remember anything other than the abysmal moniker. He still couldn't show his face at the Homeland Security office without someone yelling "T-Bone" as soon as he was noticed.

"You guys are never going to believe who just got arrested," DiNozzo stated loud enough to draw Regina's attention over the divider.

"Newman," Ziva smirked. "I was included on the e-mail as well, T-Bone."

Tony cringed, knowing that he'd never live the nickname down. Over the partition behind Ziva's desk, Regina giggled uncontrollably.

_Maybe the ATF was hiring. _

"So that's the last one of those guys, right?" Tony asked, trying to avoid the subject.

"Yeah," Zavoral volunteered, "don't you remember? Abram and Lewis are doing life for the bombings in some supermax somewhere? Conway nabbed Harrison a couple months back out in Albuquerque when she tried to charter that flight to Brazil. It was right before he transferred over here. He still talks about it, _all the time._"

"He's reliving the glory days," Tony nodded.

"Tony, Neil's only thirty-six. Too young for glory days if you ask me."

"Are most days not glorious?" Ziva questioned.

"No, Zee-vah, glory days. Like the best days of your life. Standing on the thirty yard line, everyone in the crowd screaming your name while you throw the football to the wide receiver to score a touchdown just before the clock runs out," Tony grinned, remembering his last game of his college football career.

Enthralled, Zavoral smiled wistfully at the retelling of a familiar story. Her head disappeared from the divider as she headed back behind her desk to start her workday.

"Every moment is - ," Ziva started.

When a harried Tim McGee rushed into the bullpen, she paused and shot him a concerned look. With his six-month old daughter strapped to his chest in a baby carrier, the junior agent fought to maintain his hold on his backpack and an overpacked diaper bag. He glanced between his teammates and shook his head when he dropped the bag to the floor. Tony hopped out from behind his desk, retrieving the bag from the floor and placing it on Tim's chair.

When he noticed the color coded sticky notes plastered across the junior agent's desk, DiNozzo frowned.

While McGee had recovered quite uneventful from the serious head injury he'd incurred on the Abram-Lewis case, he still continued to struggle with his memory. Although the doctors had originally speculated that it would return without consequence, Tim had finally accepted that he'd never regain his full capacity. Continuously finding new ways to adapt to his new way of life as a forgetful agent and new father, McGee had given everyone a set of notepads with specific requests to jot down his orders. As Tony stared at the paper rainbow, he realized that his well-played threat on the director was probably the only reason Tim had managed to keep his job.

Tony blinked slowly, just thankful that the team was still intact despite everything they'd endured.

"Hey there, McSquirt, how's it going?"

"Really, Tony, come on," McGee fretted, rubbing his hand on his daughter's stomach as he dropped his backpack behind his desk.

"I wasn't talking to you, Tim. Was I, little lady?" DiNozzo nodded, waving at McGee's daughter. When Tony stuck his tongue out at her, she laughed heartily, her tiny giggles ringing through the bullpen. DiNozzo and McGee grinned at each other over her head.

"Have you guys seen Elise yet?" Tim asked, sliding into his chair. "She was supposed to meet me here to pick up Molly."

"She is not here yet, perhaps she is stuck in traffic again?" Ziva stated.

"Yeah, probably."

Since Elise and Tim had opted to forgo daycare, their split schedules left many midnight and early morning rendez-vous in the bullpen with barely enough time for anything more than a kiss and a hand-off. Mercifully, the team had accepted Molly as the unofficial fifth member, shuffling her away to Abby's lab on the odd night that Tim had to bring her to work. Since Tim saw less time in the field due to his injury, Gibbs didn't seem to mind Molly's presence too much.

With a frustrated sigh, Tim took stock of his notes and carefully checked for any new additions.

"You know, McShoeless Josephine over there," Tony grinned, pointing to Molly's socked left foot.

"Oh, shoot, not again. Elise's going to kill me," Tim lamented, glancing down. "That's the third one this month. I don't know what she does. Do you - ?"

"Black or brown?" DiNozzo asked, sliding over to the filing cabinet.

"What?" McGee asked, dropping a pile of single shoes out of the diaper bag onto his desk. Tony reached into the bottom drawer of the cabinet and pulled out two packages of girl's shoes.

"Black or brown?"

"Uh, brown, it matches right?"

Tony shook his head at Molly's purple outfit and tossed the black shoes into Tim's outstretched hands. Before McGee started wrestling with his daughter's shoes, he nodded his thanks to his senior agent. DiNozzo stared at the filing cabinet drawing, a stockpile of baby items that Tim seemed to forget quite frequently.

He'd learned a few weeks after McGee's return to work that missing items left the forgetful agent overwhelmed and stressed out. To help prevent another meltdown like the one that Tim had his first day back on the job, DiNozzo kept his filing cabinet well-stocked with things he thought his junior agent might need.

Sliding back to his desk, DiNozzo started to comb through a few recent hits on his BOLO to determine just how far their drug dealing petty officer could have gotten from DC with a twelve hour headstart. When he noticed a few hits that came from as far as Sioux Falls, he shook his head.

_At least police departments did still check their BOLOs from time to time. _

Across the bullpen, McGee started working on something on his computer, his fingers tapping his keyboard with the same frantic energy he always had. To match her father's work, Molly smacked her hands on Tim's desk, laughing hysterically as she did so. When he caught a break in his typing, he nuzzled the top of her head and spun around in his chair, making her laugh even harder.

DiNozzo grinned.

Jethro Gibbs swooped into the bullpen, coffee cup in hand. When he noticed Molly at McGee's desk, he smiled and waved at her. DiNozzo had been shocked at his boss' early acceptance of the baby when she made her debut one month early while they were on a case in West Virginia. Surprisingly, the team leader had left DiNozzo and Ziva behind to personally drive Tim to the hospital. He'd not complained during the two weeks of unplanned paternity leave. When the youngest agent had needed to bring Molly to work while they finished up a case, Gibbs had always been first to grab her when she fussed, leaving his agents to work uninterrupted.

"Boss, got a hit on the BOLO," DiNozzo announced. "PO Adams was just seen entering a motel in Georgetown, 827 K St, SW."

"Ziva, go pick him. Take McGee with you," he ordered.

Almost shocked at the order to head into the field, an unlikely scene as of late for McGee, he shot out of his desk and grabbed for his gear. When he realized his daughter was still strapped to his chest, his features tightened and he gestured towards his computer, figuring there was almost always a lead for him to run down.

_That seemed to always be the excuse that Gibbs gave him. _

"Uh, boss?" McGee protested.

"I'll make sure Molly gets to her mother, Tim," the team leader nodded, motioning for the baby.

"But - ," he started again.

"I could always have Ziva babysit."

When the Israeli glanced up at her spot from behind her desk, both hands clutching her Sig and back-up gun, she nodded her assent. Tim's face noticeably paled and he shook his head, abandoning his protest. McGee plucked Molly out of her carrier with a parent's expertise. Hugging his daughter tightly, he murmured something inaudible to her and kissed her nose. He dropped the carrier onto his desk, grabbed his gear and passed the baby to Gibbs.

Molly glanced wide-eyed between her father and Gibbs before babbling incoherently.

"Is that so?" he crooned.

"Elise should be here soon, boss. Won't happen again," Tim promised, trailing Ziva to the elevator.

Gibbs shook his head, knowing that McGee had made the same promise only a few weeks ago. With Elise's hectic schedule at the hospital, he figured they'd be seeing Molly frequently. As long as it didn't affect their cases or their close rate, the team leader seemingly welcomed the tiny distraction as a team mascot.

Suddenly, Gibbs sniffed the air loudly, his face contorting into disgust. He started out of the bullpen, pausing at McGee's desk to pull a diaper from the bag.

"Good golly, Miss Molly," he muttered, whisking the baby away.

Laughing at the thought of his boss changing a diaper, Tony turned back to his computer to run a check on the petty officer's finances. All he had to do was track down the supplier and their case against Adams would be relatively iron-clad.

He'd barely had an opportunity to access the petty officer's bank account to check his transactions when Elise McGee wandered into the bullpen. Dark circles on her blanched face and hair pulled back loosely in a ponytail, Tony figured she'd just come off a particularly rough shift. Her tired eyes flicked around the bullpen while she played with the visitor's badge on her scrub top.

"Hey, Tony, how's it going?" she grinned. Despite the evident exhaustion, her happiness seemed genuine.

"Hey Elise, I'm not too bad. How're you?"

"Ready for bed," she laughed. "Is Tim around? He left me a message to pick Molly up here."

"Well, he _was_ here. Gibbs just sent him out on an assignment and Molly's around here somewhere."

Slouching against Ziva's desk, Elise nodded. "Gibbs has her?"

"Yeah. Though if they went to visit Abby, it'll be a while."

"Don't remind me. I could barely get Abby to leave when she babysat for us a few weeks ago." She laughed again, then paused awkwardly. "Though, Tony, I don't think I've ever had a chance to thank you, have I?"

"For what?" DiNozzo started, feeling the prick of embarrassment on his weeks.

"Well, pretty much for a everything. You convinced me to tell Tim about Molly and put my family together. Even though you probably don't realize it, you helped him through his recovery. All those times you took him out to unload after a long day. I think it helped him get through the ordeal, the baby, _me, _more than you might think."

Tony smiled politely, barely shrugging. "Yeah, I guess."

DiNozzo dropped his gaze back to his work while Elise leaned against Ziva's desk.

"You know Tim almost quit, right?"

_"What?!_ He never said anything."

"Do you remember that day when he first got back? He told me that he forgot his gun and couldn't remember where it was. You took the time to walk him through his morning until he realized he'd left in the safe at home. Well, he said he'd have quit NCIS after that because if he couldn't remember his gun than he shouldn't be an agent. I guess he couldn't deal with the stress of working a dangerous job with a baby on the way. I told him it took time to get better and he said that if he didn't know that you'd be there for him than he'd have turned in his badge," Elise said quietly, staring at her hands.

"Well, that's what you do for your team," Tony explained, leaning forward on his desk.

"He also told me it was your idea for the Post-Its," she shot him a tight smile. "You should've seen our apartment at first. They were everywhere. He assigned me hot pink. _G-d, I hate pink._ But he's relying on them less these days, his memory's getting better, _he's still getting better._ Even though we take it one day at a time, I think I owe a lot of it to you."

"Yeah, but - ," Tony started, pausing when Elise interrupted him.

"Just accept the thanks and we owe you an extra nice dinner at the apartment some night. Something other than the pizza we always seem to have whenever you're over."

"You don't have to - ."

"Just say you accept, Tony," Elise smiled.

"Sounds fair to me," Tony grinned, watching Gibbs arrive back in the bullpen with Molly in his arms. While he headed towards Elise, DiNozzo thought it almost sounded like his boss was singing to the baby.

"Here ya go," Gibbs said, dropping Molly into her mother's outstretched arms.

"Thanks," Elise nodded, grabbing the diaper bag from McGee's desk. "I'll leave you to your work. So Mols, new shoes again?"

Tony stood from his desk, smiling as he watched his partner's family head to the elevator. When he glanced back to Gibbs, the regular sour expression returned to his boss' face.

"DiNozzo, you find Adams' supplier yet?"

_The more things changed, the more Gibbs stayed the same. _

_-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-_

**Author's Note 2.0 : **_And that's a wrap! __Thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who's made this journey with me. It has been quite a ride. I really do appreciate everyone who's read, favorited and followed this story. I continue to be amazed by the support I receive from faithful readers and new ones alike. _

_Hope you've enjoyed it as much as I have. _

_At the moment, I have no plans for any direct sequels to this story. There may be a one-shot here or there about Molly coming to the bullpen for a case, but I'm not sure yet. I am meandering my way through a new story involving Tony going undercover with a drug cartel and Tim trying to help. No timeline for when I'll start posting. It's turning out to be longer and more involved than originally anticipated.  
_

_**Limbo **__will be finished when I get a chance to write it._

_Again, my sincerest thanks to everyone of you. _

_See you all around. _

_182/30/96  
_


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